Calamity Jane 2: The Doctor and the Deputy
by JoBethMegAmy. my homegirls
Summary: As Jane and Maura start to settle into their life together in...1800s Arizona , they weather out the ups and downs of any relationship, grateful to be sure of how much they are loved by each other- but they find it more difficult than anticipated to escape Jane's outlaw past. What they didn't anticipate at all were complications from Maura's.
1. Where the Heart Is

**A/N:**Well, _this _is kind of sad, isn't it? I couldn't hardly stay away from this for two weeks! I must be crazy. I really, really must. But I couldn't help it. I was itching to write about these two again. I'm not sure if I'll be able to keep up the insane updating pace I did on the first one, but I will definitely be updating this as much as I can. Any and all continued support is so honestly appreciated. Also, a word about the title- I had wanted to go with "The Continuing Adventures of Calamity Jane and Dr. Isles," but it was literally too long to fit! So here's to second place. Dang, I just realized this weekend is Rizzlescon! Have fun to everyone who's going, and to those who aren't, well, I hope you enjoy this!

Oh, and if my sources are correct, the beautiful cover image was done by **case-out**!

Thanks for indulging me and coming along in this adventure! And oh...if you're a newcomer, I guess you don't _really_ need to have read the first Calamity Jane, but... I dunno, you probably should.

* * *

_Thump_. "Oof!"

_Clomp_. "OW!"

_Crash_. "Tarnation!"

Three aggravated pairs of eyes turned nervously upwards when they heard the female deputy grunt with exertion one last time as she hoisted Big Dave Starr up by the collar of his shirt and threw him into the corner of the saloon with his buddies. They looked on in heightened terror as she threaded her fingers together, cracking her knuckles and walking towards them. Her footsteps were steady, sure and loud; the spurs on her black boots glinted ominously from the sunlight that was filtered in through the slats in the saloon's windows, nearly blinding them all as she stood defiantly in front of them, hands confidently at her waist.

"These the fellas, Sheriff?" she asked in an intimidatingly deep voice.

An older, only slightly more distinguished looking man walked up behind her, shifting a series of papers in front of him. "'Big' Dave Starr, 'Rifleman' Kelly, Doc Jones, and … Leslie Smith?" He looked down at the heap of men in the corner. "Yes, deputy. That's them."

"Well then!" the woman laughed, pulling out a pistol and twirling it nonchalantly. "You boys oughtta be a mite more careful the next time you lay your hands on the ass of the _law _around these parts. We can hold you on that alone. But while we've gotcha, I think some finger paintin'—"

"Printing," the Sheriff coughed.

"—finger _printing _might be in order," she finished. "We have reason to believe one of you fellas is responsible for the killin' of Colonel Nathaniel Fuller. Up and killed him right in his own home—but you made a mighty big mistake in leavin' behind some bloody fingerprints." With a flourish, she pulled out and inspected a sheet of paper as two more deputies with handcuffs came in. They and the Sheriff began cuffing the men in the corner as the woman kept talking: "You know the funny thing about fingerprints? They're like a signature. Unless one of you boys fesses up now, we're gonna take 'em from all of ya so's we can get to the bottom of this here case."

"If this ain't the livin' end," grumbled Doc Jones. "Who done got this plum fool notion of fingerprints in your mind?"

"Who else?" grunted Big Dave. "A female deputy—must be the group from the Creek. And I'll bet they got this here finger printin' idea from that cracked female doctor they got—" The words had barely escaped his mouth when he found himself getting shoved and held against the wall by Deputy Calamity Jane, her arm braced tightly against his collar. Trying to downplay his terror, Dave sneered, "You wanna roughhouse, deputy? I think I like you from this position."

Sticking her pistol in his gut, Jane snarled, "I don't care what all ya call me, or what obscene things ya insinuate about me." When Dave tried weakly to move, Jane slammed him harder against the wall, her jocular attitude long gone. "But you keep your sorry mouth shut about Dr. Isles, you prairie-lovin' sonuvabitch, or I'll shut it for ya. We clear? You ain't fit to clean the dirt off her shoes, much less go around with her name on your filthy, disrespectful lips."

Giving him one more dark glare, Jane pushed away and let one of the local deputies step forward to take Dave's arm. She bumped Korsak's elbow as a way of indicating she wanted him to follow her, and once they were both outside, the Sheriff said, "Jane Rizzoli, I don't know how you do it."

"Do what?"

"You just threw four of the fiercest criminals in these territories into the corner like it was nothin'."

Jane shrugged and grimaced. "It _was _nothin'. I faced more fearsome fellas than that, Korsak. And y'know somethin', I never woulda thought I'd have an edge just by bein' a woman. They thought I was easy pickin's, so their guards weren't up." With another shrug, Jane hooked her thumbs over her belt and smirked at Korsak. "That makes for real easy take-downs. You get the prints to their local authorities, here?"

"Yes, along with Dr. Isles' outline for the proper procedure to get prints of these boys," Korsak sighed as they walked towards his carriage. "I tell ya, Jane. All my years of being a Sheriff, I've never had a more efficient deputy."

With a laugh, Jane hoisted herself up in the carriage, picking up the reins before Korsak had a chance to. "That's 'cause you ain't ever had a deputy accustomed to ruling the west with as ruthless a hand as Jake Wyatt," she said with a wink. "Know what that means, old man? No fear. I been in situations worse than this, and if I had any back up at all, it'd just be Frost. Now I got the law on my side, and you backin' me up."

"Best decision I ever made," Korsak chuckled, clapping Jane on the back.

As the carriage rolled away, the local Sheriff stepped outside the saloon with two of the handcuffed criminals in tow. On the way to his office, he stopped to shake his head and whistle at Jane and Korsak's retreating vehicle. "Never seen a woman who was more of a man," he said to his two captives. "She thinks like one, acts like one, and sometimes makes me feel like I'm not!"

It had been just a month since Jane Rizzoli had officially been deputized, and this case had been the first to take her out of the county. Tiny as their town was, Hollow Creek had quickly earned a reputation for being home to the most effective crime-fighting unit in Arizona. Korsak and Jane had made such a good team that other towns began asking for help more than usual, to the point that Korsak took on not one but two more deputies in the form of Frankie and Frost to help out. People were apt to raise their eyebrows at a man of Korsak's position hiring a woman and black man, but nobody saw how they could complain when those initially questionable deputies were responsible for getting some of the worst criminals off the streets.

After spending so much of her crime-fighting days undercover as a male outlaw, Jane was only just starting to appreciate all the prejudice Maura often faced as a woman in her field. That said, Maura had also started gaining a reputation for more than her medical abilities: ever since Jane had become a deputy, Maura had begun reading up on scientific journals which explored the burgeoning theories of how science could be used to more easily solve cases. There were plenty of criminals still daring enough to spit in the face of the law and laugh, but there were even more men (and not a few women) whose bravado would fade when they realized they were no longer merely scapegoats: deputies and lawyers could now be backed not only by money or guns, but with pretty damning scientific evidence, also.

Maura Isles had been the first person in the territory to try fingerprinting, and what started as a small phenomenon in the Creek quickly spread further. Although Maura continued to be snidely regarded by some, she was esteemed by many others, a fact that brought endless pride to her significant other. And Maura was equally proud of Jane: when a retired Colonel had been found killed in his home in Powell County, none of the local authorities had been brave enough to track down suspects themselves.

Everyone knew that when you were in trouble, Calamity Jane Rizzoli was your best bet to get you out of it.

It was a three day trip up to Powell one way, making the whole excursion the longest separation Jane and Maura had undergone since exchanging their vows. Korsak had recommended getting plenty of bed rest the night before they left, and Jane took him up on half of that idea: she spent plenty of time in bed with Maura, but not much of it resting.

Korsak was a little curious as to why exactly Jane was so keen on hurrying home now. They barely got a chance to sleep on the road—Jane drove them later than they probably should have gone, and insisted they got going in the morning much earlier than Korsak would have liked. He didn't feel much like complaining, though, when he'd wake up and see that Jane had already packed up camp so they could get going right away. Jane had been so efficient that she wound up knocking more than half a day off the route.

"What's that song you're humming?" Korsak asked on their third morning out.

"Hm? Oh." Jane hadn't even noticed she'd been humming as she leaned back in the carriage, letting Korsak take the reins for a while. "It's an ole Scottish song Maura's mother used to sing to her. Kinda gets stuck in my head now and then."

"Does the Doc sing?"

"She claims not to, but she's got a voice right like an angel," Jane said with a grin, putting her hands together behind her head and closing her eyes against the sun. She sighed deeply in a fashion that could have been interpreted merely as satisfied, or in another way, dreamily. All Korsak knew for sure was that he had never heard a sound remotely like it come out of Calamity Jane. As he absently puzzled over this, Jane said, "Don't go askin' me to sing it, neither."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"'Cause I don't sing."

"Of course not. Can I ask you something else, then?"

Jane opened one eye and glared at Korsak suspiciously with it. "I suppose."

"What's got you itching to get back to the Creek so fast? I thought you'd appreciate taking a little trip out."

It was a simple question with an even simpler answer, but Jane took her time deciding how to respond. Korsak glanced over and saw that she was fidgeting slightly. Jane Rizzoli never fidgeted. She could make her reply one word or a thousand or any number in between: it was a matter of deciding what to say in order to leave Korsak's curiosity quenched without divulging too much. It was, after all, a legitimate question.

"I like goin' on runs for ya, Korsak," she said thoughtfully. "Out to Green Forge or the Springs or anyplace else. You're right, it's nice gettin' a little break from the town. But the Creek's where I belong; it's where I've _always _belonged, whether I knew it or not. And besides, now I've got someone there who needs me." She self-consciously sat up a little straighter when Korsak glanced at her again. "Jo Friday."

Korsak laughed and relaxed a little. "Jo Friday, huh? Yeah, that pup's sure crazy about you. Can't figure quite why, but there ya have it. Y'know, there's something I've been meaning to tell ya since you started hanging around more often."

"What's that, Korsak?"

"I'm…well, I'm right proud of ya, Jane."

"What for, killin' Hoyt?"

"No, not that," Korsak said in a level voice. "Besides, that ain't what you did, Jane. You weren't killing him, you were protecting Dr. Isles. That's what I'd have expected you to do. But afterwards, once you got him, you decided to stay. You're still tough when it comes to crooks, but you've made a real effort to be more genteel towards the folks in town, a little less rough around the edges."

"You sayin' I was a holy terror before?" Jane asked, grinning to let him know she wasn't really offended. "Well… you know who's to thank for that, I guess."

"…Jo Friday?"

Jane leaned back again, bringing her hat down over her eyes and folding her arms. "Jo Friday."

* * *

Although Maura had been keeping herself busy for the week Jane was gone, nearly every spare moment was spent thinking about her. After a month of living together, they had gotten down their general routine: Maura would make house calls for patients and be on call for any emergencies, always making time to meet Jane for lunch at Angela's or in the alcove near Wohaw Springs if they wanted a little more privacy. At night, depending on the weather, they would eat in the yard or at their newly-acquired table. Maura was always in the middle of at least two books: one that she could burn the midnight oil reading herself, and another she would take in turns reading out loud with Jane as their literacy lessons continued.

Jane had only been truly wounded once on the job so far, when she and Frost interrupted a bank robbery and one of the jittery would-be criminals fired a shot that grazed her. This had happened in Green Forge, where despite Jane's insistence that she could wait to get back to Maura, Frost took her to see Dr. Callahan. It was nothing close to traumatic, and when Jane returned home that night, Maura was only grateful that she could comfort Jane so close after the fact.

Being separated from her like this was dreadful. There were the typical things that came with absence; the loneliness at night, making food only for one, simply missing that familiar swooping sensation in her stomach that she still got every time Jane just smiled at her. But when the person you hold most dear is also a reckless deputy, there is a concern that comes every time she leaves.

What Maura hated the most was having no idea when Jane would be coming back, and in what state she would be. Korsak had said with a carriage, it would be a three day journey to Powell—but what if a wheel broke? What if their horse was slow? What if they got held up on the way back? Typically Maura loathed hypothesizing about such things, but she couldn't help it now. And what if Jane got hurt? They were chasing a murderer, after all—she could get killed!

_Oh God, what if she dies? Please, let her return safely. Please. _

"Maura, dear, are you all right? You look agitated."

Maura was jarred out of her reverie only when Adelaide gently rubbed her shoulder. "Oh! What? Yes. What?"

"You've been staring off into space for the last minute or so. It's quite rude, Maura," Adelaide said matter-of-factly. "Why, you didn't even notice when I smacked your head with a ruler!"

"You what?" Maura asked in concern, reaching up to brush the top off her head as if expecting to feel a sizeable lump there.

With a slightly pained smile, Adelaide gently brought Maura's hand back down. "It was a joke, dear," she said in a quiet voice. The two of them were in Adelaide's tiny house, situated a ways behind the tailor shop. Maura was making one of her weekly medicinal visits, and Adelaide couldn't help noticing the doctor looked more distracted than usual. "Forgive me, Maura, but I couldn't help noticing you look more distracted than usual."

"Do I?" Maura asked, all but wringing her hands.

Recognizing this as a sign that Maura was attempting to avoid what she imagined would lead to an awkward conversation, Adelaide said, "Yes. Yes, you do. What's distressing you?"

"It's Jane," Maura blurted out.

"Trouble in paradise?"

"In—what?"

With a sigh, Adelaide stood up and shuffled over to her makeshift kitchen to pick up the kettle that was whistling shrilly. "It's like you said at your housewarming, Maura. You and Jane sharpen each other like iron, better than some married couples! Now I know there's no sense in comparing the two of you to a husband and wife," she said airily, pouring two cups. "But I just mean that you two seem to have grown very close."

"She's my dearest friend," Maura said in a thick voice.

"Yes dear, I know," Adelaide said, bringing over the tea and handing a cup to Maura. "And it's my understanding that Jane is on a rather dangerous mission right now. It's only natural that you would be anxious for her. You shouldn't be out working if you're already under so much stress."

Maura was gripping her cup tightly, never bringing it to her lips. "No, I _have _to work. If I don't have my mind on something else all the time, I worry. I don't—I mean, I'm afraid, Addie. And I just wish there was some way someone could get word to me instantly if she was wounded, or if they wound up staying longer than they anticipated. Not knowing …it's just awful. So _awful_." With a nervous laugh, she said, "They could be home as early as tomorrow. Maybe even tonight, if I were to be unrealistically optimistic. I just…"

"Wish you could be sure," Adelaide said, and Maura nodded. "I understand, Maura. You poor thing, you must be quite worried! And here I've been rambling on about my back—you really need to tell me to shut up now and then."

That finally got a more honest laugh out of Maura, and she braved a sip of the scalding tea. "Not on your life, Adelaide."

"Incidentally, I thought you might be interested in knowing I got something for you today," Adelaide said.

"Really, what for?"

"No, no, _I _didn't get you something. I got something _for _you."

"I don't…I don't understand…"

Impatiently waving her hand, Adelaide said, "I mean something arrived for you from the post master. An order you placed with me. To _France_."

Maura raised her eyebrows and her cup rattled a bit when she placed it back down on its saucer. "Oh. Oh, that."

"Yes, that. We never fully came to a conclusion about whether you really wanted me to cancel the order or not, so I never did. I know you intended to wear these… things …for Mr. Fairfield, but just because he's gone doesn't mean there won't ever be someone you'd like to wear them for, Maura." Adelaide was watching her carefully for a reaction, but Maura was staring off to the wall, gulping down her tea. "It would be a shame to send them all the way back to Paris if you think you might have need of them at a later date," Adelaide continued. "Maura, I really do hope you don't let the situation with Mr. Fairfield keep you from settling down someday. You possess so many wonderful qualities which I should think would be very desirable in a wife and mother. And… that's something you want to be, isn't it?"

"Yes," Maura breathed, still looking at the wall. Adelaide had asked nothing about a husband; she was still in the clear.

Adelaide sat back, as if this settled the matter. "Well then, you'll find it. You know, at first I was concerned by your age and how long you had waited to wed Mr. Fairfield, but it certainly seems as though that all happened for a reason, didn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose it did."

"You discovered some less than admirable of his, and hopefully that won't be an issue the next time. For now, I'm sure Jane appreciates having you around as a housewife," Adelaide chuckled, but her smile faltered a bit when Maura turned wide, worried eyes to look at her. "You bring much-needed decorum and domesticity to her life. That's what I meant, Maura."

With a curt nod, Maura sat a little straighter and said, "Of course. Adelaide, if you've the box from France at home, I'd be glad to take it off your hands."

Maura wasn't entirely sure what she'd been expecting, but the box was not sensational or scandalous in any way. It was actually quite ordinary, utterly belying the salacious garments that it contained. Even still, Maura walked a bit more briskly to her carriage than usual lest she be stopped by an innocent passersby and asked what she was carrying. When she made it home, she headed straight for the bedroom, where she unceremoniously dropped the box onto Jane's side of the bed. Her hands kept going for the lid then drawing back, afraid.

She was torn. She wanted to see exactly what the garments looked like, and possibly try them on. But part of her could not help thinking of the last time she had worn something indecent in front of Jane—what it had let to… that corset in Stanley's tavern, the night they caught Hoyt. At the time it had seemed like a victory, but ultimately wound up leading to the most terrifying hour of both their lives. Still… in a way, that was what had helped bring them even closer together. Maura knew she was probably over-analyzing, and it was giving her a headache.

So she left the box unattended on the bed, choosing to settle down on the sofa to read _Jane Eyre _for a couple of hours.

It wasn't until a little after nine o'clock that Maura heard a carriage outside. Typically this just signaled somebody driving past on their way to or from Green Forge, but then she heard it stop. Two voices were muffled by their distance, and if there had been any doubt as to who they belonged to, it was confirmed when Maura heard Jo Friday barking like a maniac outside. It was the bark she reserved for Jane. At this realization, _Jane Eyre _literally went flying out of Maura's hands (only just missing the fireplace) as the doctor's heart hammered in anticipation and she hurried for the door.

Maura opened it in time to see Jane jumping out of Korsak's carriage, and when her feet hit the ground, her eyes met Maura's. Her face split into a wide grin that Maura knew she was returning in full force. As much as Jane had been looking forward to this moment, she still felt unprepared for the burst of pure delight that exploded in her chest and shot out to every particle in her body at the sight of Maura waiting for her. Without so much as a backwards glance at Korsak, Jane ran for the house, throwing her hat further into the yard for Jo Friday to go chase.

Noticing that Jane hadn't even slowed down once she reached the porch, Maura laughed and took a precautionary step back inside. For her part, Jane was somewhat aware of the fact that Korsak had yet to fully turn his carriage around—so once Jane reached the threshold, she kicked the door shut behind her before immediately picking Maura up into a bear hug. Maura laughed in surprised joy when her feet left the floor as Jane swung her around.

"Oh, if you ain't a sight for sore eyes!" Jane hollered, clenching Maura even tighter before finally setting her down. "And sore arms," she added, running her hands along said limbs as Maura's grip went to Jane's waist. With the hint of a cocky grin, Jane leaned down, whispering "and sore lips" before capturing Maura's in a kiss.

The sensation was better than either of them had remembered, and Maura whimpered into the kiss, bringing her arms up and around Jane's neck. Even still, she broke it off fairly quickly, opting to focus all her energy on clutching Jane as tightly to her as possible. Even considering her tendency to get emotional about things, Maura was sincerely surprised to feel tears of relief leaking out of her eyes.

"Darling, I missed you so much," she sniffed, her breath catching when Jane gently kissed her cheek, then her neck.

"I feel like sayin' I missed ya ain't sayin' enough," Jane responded, feeling warmth spread throughout her insides at the feel of holding Maura so close.

After a few moments, Maura pulled back just far enough to look Jane over. "You're not hurt?"

"Aw, what're you, kiddin' me?" Jane laughed. "Ain't even got a scratch!"

"Not anywhere?"

"Not in a single blessed place. I didn't do nothin' more than what I thought was required."

Maura brought Jane down for another kiss, whispering against her lips. "I couldn't help worrying about you, you know."

"I understand," Jane said reverently. After so many years of traveling as Jake, Jane had hardened a bit and came to scoff when Angela or her brothers would express concern for her. She knew they all cared just as much about her safety as Maura did, but Maura was the one responsible for making Jane a little less reckless, wanting to spare other people emotional pain on account of her physical wounds. Jane was tied to her brothers by blood, and the connection with Angela was nearly the same, going almost as far back.

But Maura had fallen in love with her, had met her during one of the more turbulent times of Jane's life, and had determined to stay by her regardless of it all. It was an emotion Jane knew Maura had never felt for anyone else, just as she herself had never cared so singularly about anybody as much as she did Maura.

"So, how shall we celebrate your safe return?" Maura asked, still grinning from ear-to-ear. "Would you like to go out back and…" She brought both hands up to Jane's face, relishing in her realness and her safety, kissing her again. "Spark?"

"No," Jane answered, her voice a low rumble. She stooped slightly to pick Maura up again, offering her a roguish smile which contrasted slightly with the tenderness in her voice: "I want to make love to you in our bed, and just hold you all through the night."

It would be utterly redundant for Maura to express how wonderful that idea sounded, so she let actions speak for her in place of words. Considering how short a distance it was from the door to the bedroom, it took them quite a while to get there. Jane was barely able to keep her hold on Maura as the doctor's hands seemed to be going everywhere, tugging vainly at Jane's vest before going to unbutton her shirt and then heading for her belt. Jane kept pausing, allowing herself to lean against the wall to give Maura the time to properly finish the attempts to disrobe her. What kept Jane patient was her ability to mostly maintain the kiss she had initiated at the door, before they finally reached their destination.

Jane lay Maura down on the bed, not noticing the thin box she knocked to the floor in the process. Removing each other's clothes often had a methodical feeling to it, with at least some acknowledgement of the time it seemed to take. Nothing they had done before matched the feverish pace at which they were now undressing each other, both of them starved for the intimacy they had grown so accustomed to and missed so sorely in the last week. There was a tacit understanding that passed between them: this was not about seeing the other's body; it was about feeling her. That predominantly was it, but it was also about basking in her scent, savoring her unique taste, hearing those beautiful sounds that were brought out only by each other.

An intensely gratified moan came out of Maura as she finally felt Jane's unclothed body settling on top of her own, and the sound was quickly stifled with a languid kiss. After the rushing, harried speed that had brought them here, it was a refreshing change of pace, and both women loved knowing that although they could rush if they wanted to, there was no need. They could take their time.

There was nothing at all comparable to the feeling Jane had whenever she was like this, whenever Maura was beneath her and grasping at her. It was a power that felt so much greater than the kind she used to feel posing as an outlaw, knowing she commanded respect no matter where she went. Maura's admiration hadn't come for free; Jane had had to fight for it, and she had lost it more than once. That's what made winning it back so amazing, and the power Jane felt was shared by them both.

A poorly timed "don't" spilled out of Maura's mouth just as Jane slipped a hand between them. Jane stilled her movements as Maura forced her own eyes open, tangling her hands in Jane's hair and panting, "Don't ever leave me for that long again." She gulped in a bit more air as Jane smiled ruefully at her, both of them knowing it was very plausible that Jane would have to take more trips like this one and possibly be gone longer. Maura pulled Jane down for an open kiss, her tongue brushing against Jane's as she arched into the woman's touch. "I'm just so glad you're back."

Jane dipped her head, kissing Maura's jaw and then her neck before coming back up to catch her gaze, stroking her cheek and smiling as Maura nuzzled her face into a calloused hand. "It's so great to _be_ back."


	2. Never Known A Feeling Like This

**A/N**: Guys, seriously? You are all the best. Thank you for the favoriting, the following, and especially the reviewing! That was a great confidence boost to help me feel better about this story.  
And I should also probably address this now, as I've had a few people ask me already: this story is staying **T-rated**. I do think it could be great and not necessarily "smutty" to go into more detail, but it's just not something I feel comfortable with doing. PG-13 still leaves plenty of room.

* * *

Maura had never fallen asleep nude. At least, not until she had started her life with Jane. Now she found herself falling asleep naked more often than not. She couldn't help it. While simply slipping into sleep next to Jane (clothed) was frequently enough, Maura found herself startled by how insatiable her appetite for Jane was, how much she wanted more. And Jane, when she was not the one initiating action herself, was always happy to indulge her.

The first morning after Jane's return found them lying in bed, just talking. Maura considered this tremendous progress from the first time they had made love, when neither of them had even been undressed all the way. Jane had been almost terrified of letting everything go completely, feeling extremely self-conscious about a body she was only starting to feel comfortable with and able to accept herself in. Initially it took a lot of gentle coaxing from Maura for Jane to rid herself of those last barriers, and then, it was only in the dark—Jane always woke up first, and would inevitably be dressed by the time Maura even opened her eyes.

"_Why do you always do that?"_

"_What, get up so early? Habit, I guess."_

"_No, I mean…" Without fully realizing how hypocritical it was, Maura pulled the duvet up with her to cover her chest as she sat up against the headboard. "You always get dressed."_

"_Sure," Jane muttered, fumbling with her belt buckle. "If you think I'm gonna walk around town stark naked, ya got another thing comin'!" _

"_That isn't what I mean, Jane," Maura sighed, running a hand through her severely mussed hair. "And you know it, don't you?" _

_Jane slowly turned around to face Maura, her dark eyes fixed on the other woman's hazel ones. "Why's it matter to ya?" she asked, her tone markedly curious and perhaps a little nervous, but certainly not antagonistic. _

_Maura frowned, giving herself time to think about it. After a moment, she dropped her grip on the duvet, letting it fall so she could more honestly reflect her own words. She saw Jane's eyes dart briefly, almost imperceptibly, downwards. "Because," she finally said in a tired voice, "it makes me feel as though you're still hesitant about giving yourself to me. __All__ of yourself. Your beautiful, wonderful self." _

_With a sigh, Jane pulled over a chair towards Maura's part of the bed and turned it around backwards before sitting herself down. "It ain't you, Maura," she mumbled, folding her arms on top of the chair and resting her chin on them. "It's me. I just …I just ain't used to lettin' it down. My guard, I mean. And I don't…" When she sighed again, it was with noticeable frustration as she ran a hand distractedly through her hair. She was staring absently at Maura's knees, which were pulled up but still covered by the duvet. "I dunno why, for sure. I mean—people've seen you undressed, ain't they? Maids, and maybe tailors' assistants, people like that."_

"_Yes, they've seen me undressed," Maura said patiently. "But not like this, Jane." She frowned when Jane shifted to rest her forehead against her crossed arms. "Maybe it's because you've spent so long in another person's body. I know you obtained __some__ pleasure from being Jake, intimidating people and getting your way with no questions asked. But I know the reasons __why__ you had to do it must have torn you up inside." She tenderly laid a hand on one of Jane's arms, waiting for those big brown eyes to meet hers again. Once they did, Maura gave Jane's arm a gentle squeeze. "As a child, people made you feel uncomfortable in this town for not acting particularly feminine. Perhaps that made you feel awkward with the body you born with. But you never felt fully comfortable in Jake's, either, because of some of the things you've had to do in it."_

_Jane laughed nervously, kneading the scars on her hands. "I ain't ever really thought of it that way before," she said. "But it… it sounds like it makes sense." Her already-weak smile faded as she gazed somberly at Maura. "So… how do I fix it? Fix me?"_

"_What makes you think you're broken?" Maura countered quietly._

"_You just said," Jane answered with a shrug. "It's true. I wanna see you, but I don't feel …I don't feel ready lettin' ya see me."_

_Maura sat up a little more, moving a bit away from Jane. "Then it's not a question of how __you__ 'fix' it. It's a question of what __we__ do about it."_

"_So?"_

_Maura could feel a blush rising to her cheeks, but she sounded fully sure of herself when she said, "Come here." After a few moments' hesitation, Jane climbed onto the bed. "Knees here," Maura instructed, patting the covers on either side of her hips. Jane took a shuddering breath and obeyed, and in this position, was unable to keep herself from gently cupping Maura's neck and face in her hands, moving down for a kiss. Maura granted it, but Jane broke it off when she felt Maura unbuttoning her calico top. "This is what we do about it," Maura said steadily, calmly and reassuringly holding Jane's gaze. "You take me now, in the daylight. Don't try to think too much. Let me… try and let me have you, too. All of you."_

_Jane bent down for another kiss, moaning softly as Maura reached into her hair. "You're the only person," she whispered against Maura's lips. "The only person I'd ever give all of myself to."_

It took a few days longer for full progress to be made, but Maura's spirits never dampened. What she had most hoped for was what she had here and now, the two of them lying in bed together in full daylight, neither of them ashamed of or embarrassed by their nakedness—at the moment, covers were pulled up over them for the sake of warmth, not modesty.

"So," Maura whispered in a tired, morning voice. "I presume you and the Sheriff were successful in your quest."

"Very," Jane replied with a smirk. "We got the four guys they was lookin' for pretty easy, and now they'll all be sittin' pretty until the law can figure out which of 'em's got the fingerprints they're lookin' for." Her self-satisfied smirk turned into a proud smile as she caressed Maura's cheek. "I tell ya, Maura, I still can't get over that brain of yours sometimes. I reckon your system's got us catchin' double the crooks we used to before. And with less bloodshed, too."

"Yes, I've civilized you, haven't I?"

Unable to come up with a proper answer right away, Jane leaned in for a kiss, and any thoughts of formulating a suitable response were quickly forgotten.

After their impromptu round of what Jane liked to call their morning exercise, Maura decided it was time to get up. As she rolled out of bed, Jane propped herself up one elbow to shamelessly admire what she perceived to be Maura's physical perfection.

"Oh, I missed you," Jane sighed when Maura stooped to pick her dress up off the floor.

"Really?" Maura asked. Now she was the one smirking as she held the dress up to herself and walked back to the bed. "What did you miss the most?"

Jane reached out to put an arm around Maura's waist when she sat on the edge of the bed. "That'd be like askin' me to pick a favorite star," she said. "I missed everything, Maura. Your smile, your laugh, that look you get in your eye when I do something really stupid. Or even the way your eyes sort of flash when you're mad at me, 'cause then at least I can tell you're feelin' something, and you don't let me get away with nothin'. Honest, though, Maura—I don't sleep so good when I ain't with ya."

"You know what I missed the most about you?" Maura whispered, leaning closer.

"What?" Jane asked with an anticipatory grin.

Pretending to survey her for a moment, Maura took Jane's chin in her hands, running her thumb over the cleft in it. "This, right here."

Jane laughed, pulling a wickedly grinning Maura down for a quick kiss. "Wanna hear a funny story about that?"

"Why, I'd love to."

"Remember Thanksgiving, when you, uh…"

"Yes." Maura still had yet to admit to Jane what exactly her inebriation had done to her that night, and she doubted it was something she would ever actually talk about. It was nice (or at least reassuring) to keep at least _some _secrets.

"You had me carry you back to the boarding house, and you asked me how I shaved in here," Jane chuckled, pointing to the cleft.

Maura laughed good-naturedly. "Did I really?"

"Well, you asked how _Jake _did, anyway. But Maura…"

"Yes?"

"It makes me think of somethin' else, too. Every time you touch me there, I mean." She didn't need to outline it: they were both remembering the same thing.

_It became evident that Maura was staring at Jane's nose, which, now that she thought about it, was still stinging a bit. "Hairline fracture," the doctor murmured. "The nasal bone above the nasal lateral cartilage." _

_ "The…"_

_ "Don't worry, it's not disfiguring. What happened?"_

_ "Oh," Jane muttered, touching her nose. "It's not a problem."_

_ "I could fix it for you," Maura offered. _

_ "Uh…well, if you…if you think…"_

_ "I've gone days without practicing even the slightest medical procedure," Maura said. "You would be doing me a favor."_

_ "Well then," Jane said, setting the burgundy and her jeans down on the floor. "By all means, doctor, go on ahead." _

_ With a small smile, Maura stepped even closer and advised, "This might hurt a little."_

_ No stranger to pain, Jane just said "okay," and waited patiently. Her heart jumped a bit when Maura gently took her chin between delicate fingers, presumably surveying Jane for the best way to go about this. She traced her fingers to the left side of Jane's jaw, letting them rest there as she raised the index finger of her other hand to the bridge of Jane's nose. She was too focused on this task to notice that Jane's eyes were staring directly at her concentrated hazel ones…_

"That was… well," Jane sighed. "Women had touched my face before, Maura. When I was Jake. I never felt anything when they did, except sometimes maybe anger with myself, or… I dunno, confusion. Or fear—fear for what I was feelin', and why they were lookin' at me that way. But when you touched my face that night…" She turned her head a bit, enough to kiss the underside of Maura's fingers. "It was the first time I didn't want find myself wishin' a woman would let go."

"Really?" Maura asked. "Even when I hurt your nose?"

"_Especially_ when you hurt my nose," Jane snickered.

"Good," Maura said, pinching it. "Because I hope you realize I'm never letting go of this." But she did release it just then to give Jane the space to kiss her again. Maura then pulled back and cleared her throat, holding up the dress that had been between them. "And now, Jane Rizzoli—I'm not sure if you're aware of this or not, but you tore this dress."

"I did?" Jane asked, grinning sheepishly.

Showing her the damaged part of the garment, Maura nodded. "You did. Someone was in quite a hurry to get me undressed last night, weren't they?"

"You ain't mad?"

"No, I can try to salvage it. If it's a lost cause, I have plenty of other…oh."

"What?"

"All my clothes are drying outside. I was going to put this on to go get them."

"Well you still can can't ya? Nobody comes past here; they won't see ya in a torn garment."

"If I put it on, it may get worse."

"Well, go out there naked then," Jane said with a smirk. "Ain't so likely anyone'll see ya."

Maura furrowed her brow, unable to tell if Jane was joking or not. Regardless of the fact that it was extremely unlikely anyone would see her, Maura did not think it would be decorous to go strolling out into the backyard without any clothes on at all.

Jane was about to offer to pick up the laundry herself when Maura came up with an even better idea: "I'll just have to borrow your clothes for a second, if you won't mind."

"Mine?" Jane asked, eyebrows raising as Maura calmly walked over to the doorway to pick up Jane's discarded shirt.

"Yes," Maura said, pulling the shirt on and starting to do the buttons. At a point it became uncomfortably tight around the chest, but it was at least wearable—something she knew she couldn't say once she had picked up Jane's denim pants. The simple fact of it was that Maura had hips where Jane barely did, and when this realization struck Maura as she scrutinized Jane's pants, Jane couldn't contain a short laugh.

"Nice try," Jane chuckled. "I think that's the best you'll be able to do at this point."

For a moment, Maura eyed the adjustable leather chaps which were also lying by the bed, but ultimately decided against it. She went to the closet and took out one of Jane's robes, which gave her about as much cover as she would need were she walking into a convent. "Will you promise not to be offended if I ask you a favor, Jane?" Maura asked, tying the sash around her middle.

"Hm, I'm not sure I like the sound of that," Jane said with a crooked smile, arching an eyebrow.

As was usually her custom, Maura proceeded as if Jane had answered affirmatively: "I wanted to get a chicken for you when you returned, but you got back much sooner than I expected, and I don't have one ready for you. Once I get dressed, I'm going to go into town to buy one."

"Great, I'll come with you."

"No, that's where the favor comes in," Maura said, holding out a hand to keep Jane from getting out of bed. "Sweetheart, I adore you and I am beyond happy that you've returned, but… you really need to bathe. Badly."

Jane stared at her for a few moments, trying to gauge her seriousness. Maura looked torn between wanting to smile nervously and sweetly, while also trying to sell Jane on the truthfulness of her words. Finally Jane burst out laughing, and Maura looked happily relieved. "Boy, I must really smell, huh? I ain't washed myself properly in almost a week."

"I…right," Maura said, refraining from saying she had guessed as much.

"Used a bar of soap right before we got back to town so the stink wouldn't overwhelm ya as soon as ya saw me," Jane explained. "But I guess it's wore off now, huh? It was sweet of ya not to kick me outta bed."

"It would've taken far more than a bad smell for that to ever happen," Maura chuckled. "I'm just afraid people in town might not be as understanding as I am, and may think terribly judgmental things if they were to catch a whiff of your… essence."

"And you know how much that would bother me," Jane said sarcastically, but with a smile. "All right, Maura. You go on and do whatever it is ya gotta do, and I promise to smell good as a prairie rose by the time you come back."

"Thank you, dear." Maura glanced at the other side of the bed and noticed the box she had picked up from Adelaide yesterday. When Jane was distracted trying to rub the sun out of her eyes, Maura quickly nudged the box under the bed with her foot. She hadn't yet decided what to do about owning the unmentionables, and didn't want to talk to Jane about it until she had gotten a chance to look at them first, alone.

Jane waited until Maura had fully dressed and left before actually giving herself a bath, and as she figured Maura might be gone a while, she took her time. Though their tub was only made of wood, Jane considered it a luxurious step above dipping into a creek or standing under a spigot. She liked the privacy of being in her own home and not having to worry about any critters (human or otherwise) sneaking up on her.

If Maura was going to the trouble of getting a chicken for dinner, Jane figured she ought to go to the trouble of making herself look a little nicer than usual. So, she picked out an ensemble that was as clean and fresh as she felt. It was an outfit that Maura (surprise) had picked out for her, a matching vest and trousers that were pinstriped and dark brown in color.

The vest went over a long-sleeved light blue shirt, and as Jane patiently did up the buttons, she thought absently to herself how little she missed wearing gloves all the time. In the past, whenever she looked at her hands, all she could see were the scars Hoyt had left. But Maura had gotten her to look past all that, and the scars barely even registered with her. Now when she noticed her hands at all, she admired the length of her fingers, the inexplicable smoothness of the skin between her knuckles, the beauty in the olive color of her skin—all things Maura had patiently pointed out to her.

Just a few minutes after getting herself dressed, Jane heard a knock at the door. It wasn't often that they got surprise visitors, except for the occasional person passing through and asking for directions. When Jane opened the door, her guest looked just as surprised to see her as she was to see him.

"Jane!"

"Tommy!" She laughed and pulled her brother into a tight hug, giving him time to mask the look of shock on his face. "Hey, brother!"

"Hey there!" he laughed nervously when she pulled back. "So! You made it back in one piece, huh?"

"Yup, I sure did! These for me? You're so sweet!" she said, reaching for the flowers clutched in Tommy's hand, which he quickly handed over. "I didn't know flowers even grew this time of year!"

"Not many do," Tommy said awkwardly. "Ma found 'em, though."

"Sorry I didn't come to see you and Frankie yet. We got back real late last night, and I was real tired, y'know? Say, how'd ya know I was back, anyway? You run into Korsak in town?"

"Uh—yeah, I did. Yeah. He said you were back, so … welcome back!"

Taking a step into the house, Jane said, "You gonna come in?"

"Oh! Um, no, I… was actually just on my way over to Green Forge. Yeah, a pal of mine moved over there a couple days ago and needs help paintin' his house, so I figured I'd lend a hand. Just thought I'd stop by here on my way up and say hello… to you. Of course."

"Right…"

Tommy stiffly stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked a bit, a move Jane had learned to recognize from childhood meant he was trying to hide something. "So! Is Maura here?"

"No, she went into town," Jane said, narrowing her eyes slightly. "You been by here while I was gone, Tommy?"

He tried his best to look innocent, and after all, her question hadn't sounded accusatory. It was the eyes that worried him; this was the look she always gave people when she was preparing to pull a rug out from under them. Trying to gauge what his response should be, he ultimately went for the truth: "Uh—just a couple times, you know. I felt bad havin' Maura be up here, all alone. I figured you'd want someone to come by and check in once in a while—you know, make sure she was okay."

Jane nodded. "Sure, sure. Right. Thanks for doin' that, Tommy. Good luck with the paintin' job."

"Thanks. Er…I'll… see you around then, I guess."

"Bye."

She shut the door and walked back into the house, tossing the flowers onto a small table by the sofa. It hadn't taken very long to realize who Tommy had really meant those flowers for, and Jane felt herself burning up. _Burning up with what? _It was hard to say. She didn't think it was fair to be mad at Tommy. After all, he and Maura were friends, and as far as he knew, Maura was romantically available. And who wouldn't want such a gorgeous, intelligent, kind-hearted woman? Still, he ought to have known Maura was far too good for him …_of course, that should've gone for me, too. _

It was hard not to feel jealous of him too, though, based simply on his being a man. He was a Rizzoli who could really marry Maura if he wanted to, and everyone would know she was off-limits. Somehow she and Maura needed to come up with a solid reason to keep suitors away. She didn't really like the thought of Tommy coming by when she wasn't around.

But Jane was also upset with herself for not thinking of something Tommy had brought up. She had left town, and left Maura alone. Yes, Maura now had a better understanding of how to defend herself with a gun, but was that enough? Should Jane have asked Angela to go stay with her, or told Maura to go stay with Angela? Or was that going too far? What if something had happened to Maura when Jane was gone?

Either way, Jane was resolved to talk about it as soon as Maura got home, but she found herself a bit distracted when Maura walked through the door with tears in her eyes.

Immediately, Jane leapt up off the couch and walked over to her. "Maura! What's wrong?"

"Oh, it's nothing, really," Maura insisted, taking off her hat and hanging it up. She dropped the bag which Jane assumed was carrying a dead chicken, which was a sign that Maura clearly was upset about something—in her right mind, she'd never just dump a bag like that inside the house. Jane followed her curiously to the sofa, where Maura pulled a folded sheet of paper out of her sleeve. "There was a letter for me. I've already read it, but before I talk about anything, I think you should, too."

Jane hesitantly took the letter, a bit wary of its length. Glancing at Maura, she held it out with a flourish, which got the weak laugh she had at least been aiming for. It meant something to her that as anxious as Maura clearly was to talk about it, it was still important to her that Jane work on her reading skills by going through it first. So with Maura's help, Jane haltingly read the letter, dated quite some time ago, aloud:

"_Dear Maura,_

_I am writing you this letter for two purposes. Firstly, it might interest you to know the current state of the Fairfield clan. As you know, we lost Adam to that boating incident shortly before you left, and Jocelyn is still in mourning. Hardly any of us have seen her. For undisclosed reasons, Sumner has apparently been disinherited by his father and is now working in a small factory. As such, he no longer socializes with any of us—we do miss him, but I believe he would feel awkward imposing himself on us now. _

_It would be quite an understatement to say we were all shocked when Garrett returned here without you. He made it very clear that he did not blame you in the least for breaking off the engagement, and I must say I have never seen a man look so humbled. If you do not wish to divulge the reasons for your separation, I will not ask for them, but I do admit I am curious. Again, that does not mean you must tell me. Any number of girls here would have loved to marry Garrett in your place, I'm sure, but he never gave them the chance. Along with his father, he has moved to Milan to work in his uncle's garment industry. Perhaps it was too much for him to remain in Boston without you._

_Will you ever be coming back? As Garrett was your reason for moving out West, I assumed you might return to Boston now that he is no longer here nor there. Not even in the country! This brings me to my second point for writing you this letter._

_As per your request, your father's hospital has remained open but the house unsold. Due to sentimentality, I'm sure, you asked that nobody move in for at least a year after your father's passing. It has been nearly that long now, and we have just now received the first request for it. He is not a Bostonian, but would like to be, and said he saw the house once while visiting a friend in your father's hospital. A former brother-in-arms, actually. He is a veteran of the Union army, and once we explained the situation with your father's house, he requested your blessing before eventually moving in. He is content to wait out the extra time required to honor your father's memory, but then he would like to purchase the house._

_I am inclined to imagine that as it has been quite some time since Garrett left Arizona and you have not come back to Boston—or, for that matter, written that you ever will—you are planning to stay out West. But would you like to come for a visit? I am not sure if the Lieutenant will be nearby when and if you come, but it would be an opportunity for you to say farewell to the house. I know there are some things you have left here—you may like to come and pick them up yourself, or see what it is you'd like to get rid of. We should like very much to see you again, also. _

_Return a letter once you have decided, and we will make sure the house looks presentable! I hope you are doing well and to hear from you as soon as possible._

_Best regards, Charlotte Hughes"_

Jane set down the letter and tried to think of what to say. While she cast about for something, Maura said, "TheHughes were our neighbors when I was growing up. Well—I suppose they were always our neighbors, actually, until I left. Charlotte's a bit younger than I am, but she was always polite enough to me. Mrs. Hughes is very sweet, and saw to it that Charlotte was, as well."

"She sounds it," Jane said. "Uh…" She firmly took Maura's free hand, the one that wasn't busy brushing away new tears. "How do ya feel about this?"

Maura took a deep breath and shook her head. She couldn't bring herself to think too much about Garrett, and she didn't particularly want to. Furthermore, she assumed Jane didn't want to either, even if it sounded as though he had done the admirable thing. Maura figured the best way to make Jane feel like she was unquestionably the right choice was to not bring up Garrett at all. The last of her tears were gone, and Maura felt up to talking again.

"I just…" She sighed deeply, looking into Jane's concerned gaze. "I would like to go back. Not to stay," she quickly added, "just to see the house. I'm sure my father would appreciate the thought of a Union veteran living in his home."

"How long's it been?" Jane asked gently.

Maura grit her teeth before answering. "Eleven months and… two weeks. Certainly enough time for someone to move in to our old home."

"If that's what you'd like."

"It is. I think it's the right thing to do. And Charlotte's right, I really ought to go to make sure there isn't anything there I'd like to bring back. I cleaned it out, mostly, but I always assumed we'd go back to Boston to visit Garrett's family, so… I left some things. Things it might be nice to have now, that I can't really even think of off the top of my head."

"Sure," Jane whispered, rubbing Maura's arm. After a long pause, she asked, "Do you… want I should come with ya?"

"Oh, yes," Maura gasped, so glad that Jane had brought it up herself. "I would hate leaving you behind, Jane. And I would love the chance to show you Boston."

Jane smiled at Maura's obvious honesty and enthusiasm. "And I'd love for you to show it to me."

"There's just one thing," Maura said softly, taking Jane's hand. "There's… a law in Boston…"

"About…"

"Dress."

"Oh."

"Men wearing female clothing, or women wearing male clothing—it simply isn't permitted. I hate for you to be uncomfortable."

Jane leaned back on the sofa, idly scratching her head. "Maura, it wouldn't kill me to wear some dresses for a while," she finally chuckled. "Hell, I'm sure Ma would be tickled to death to help me pick out some to bring." There was that smile, the one that always made her heart flutter, the one Maura gave her whenever Jane offered to do something solely for Maura's sake. "I've got another idea, though. Just a suggestion."

"What is it?"

"Well…I wanna make a good impression on the folks out there, Maura. I wanna make you look good, and the West look good. So what if I…" She traced the ring on Maura's finger before kissing the hand and looking Maura in the eye. "What if I went as your husband?"

It took Maura a moment to know what to say. "Really?"

"Yeah. You wouldn't have to lie to nobody; I'd do the talkin'. I'd explain it. I'll put my hair up and nobody'd know the difference."

"It isn't customary to wear hats indoors in Boston," Maura said. "Everyone would think it quite rude, and you need the hat to hide your hair."

"That ain't the only trick I got," Jane said. "I can trim it just a bit and leave it down, maybe get one of them stage mustaches again. I'd do it all the time when me and Frost was on the road and I didn't feel like bein' Jake or myself. Ain't ever been questioned before."

"You weren't?"

"No. And besides..." Jane glanced uneasily back at the letter, unconsciously putting an arm possessively around Maura's shoulder. "If I went just as your lady friend, some of the boys back in Boston might get ideas about ya. If a fella tries makin' a move on you here, I can kick his chair out from under him and tell him to head for the hills. I can't do that to ya in Boston. It wouldn't carry the weight out there that it does here, and I wouldn't wanna embarrass ya anyhow."

"Jane, you don't embarrass—"

"It wouldn't just be for you, neither," Jane continued in a slightly louder voice. "If I go as your husband, I don't have to see any men fallin' all over ya. That'd be a nice change for me, frankly. Think about it, Maura. People would think we was married."

It was hard not to smile at the emotion in Jane's voice. "That _would_ be nice," Maura finally said. "Jane… are you sure? It wouldn't …I mean, I don't want you to believe I…"

She wasn't sure where she was going with this idea, and neither was Jane, but Jane took a stab at it. "Maura, I love you," she said in an even voice. "I know you love me for everything I am. I know it's my soul and my heart that you love, and I know you're satisfied that when you take the clothes off my back, you see Jane Rizzoli and not Jake Wyatt. I _know _that. I know it, and I love it. I learned to love myself because of you. But that don't mean it'd throw my world off course if I dressed as a man again. It might be kinda nice, in fact."

"Do you really think so?" Maura asked.

"I wouldn't lie to you, Maura."

"You _do _look exceptionally handsome today, you know," Maura said, and Jane smiled as Maura fingered the edge of the pinstriped vest. "I'd love the chance to show you off in Boston."

"Ya don't have to decide right now," Jane whispered. "Wait until the mail goes out again to write a letter, and you can tell Charlotte Hughes whatever ya want—that you'll be bringin' your friend Jane or… whoever else it is you'd like me to be. I just wanna go with ya."

"And I want you to come with me."

"Well, at least we're in agreement about that much."

"At least I _think _I want you to come with me," Maura teased, standing up when Jane leaned in for a kiss. "I went to a lot of work keeping this place nice while you were away, Jane Clementine Rizzoli, and you haven't said a single thing about the new things I've brought in!"

"In my defense, you seemed a little more concerned with tearin' my clothes off than ya did showin' me the house," Jane chuckled.

"Yes. We oughtn't let ourselves get that carried away again—I wouldn't care for more of my clothes to reach the brink of ruin, if you don't mind. Now tell me honestly, what do you think of this?" she asked, gesturing to the rug at her feet.

With a groan, Jane stood up and walked over, pretending to examine it closely. "What happened to that bear skin rug we was talkin' about?" she asked. It was sort of a joke, but they _had _talked about getting one, so the house could reflect a little more of Jane's rugged personality.

"Oh, this could be a bare skin rug," Maura said coquettishly.

It took some flirtatious fluttering eyelashes for Jane to get the point. "_Bare _skin, huh?" she asked, hooking her thumbs through her belt loops and grinning devilishly at Maura.

Reflecting the smile over her shoulder, Maura turned her back to Jane and pointed to the top of her dress. "Unbutton me."

* * *

**A/N**: Fun historical fact- I don't think cross-dressing was illegal in Boston at this time, but it actually was in Chicago. Had I been aware of that when I was writing the last story, I definitely would have mentioned it, but alas, I only learned it recently. So I just shifted it to another location, haha. Thanks for reading!


	3. Can't Prepare For Surprises

**A/N**: So... there's something a bit sensitive that gets dealt with at the end of this chapter. I tried to do justice to the characters and the time period and hope it came off all right. It was really difficult to do, but I didn't want to ignore it anymore.

* * *

They were both breathless and a little more sweaty than usual as they recovered from their first go at ravishing each other someplace aside from the bed. It was only after the fact, during this moment of relative quiet contemplation, that Maura realized how potentially reckless that had been. It was the middle of the afternoon and she was lying stark naked on the living room floor of the house she owned with the shirtless woman lying next to her whose trouser buttons were undone. Nobody, not even family, had ever just waltzed into their home without knocking, but still—there was a first for everything. And without any sheets to cover her, Maura felt particularly vulnerable.

"Jane," she whispered, rolling onto her side and placing her hand on Jane's stomach. "We should get dressed."

"You tired of lookin' at me already?" Jane teased her.

"As if that could ever happen," Maura said with an utterly lovesick smile. "But what if someone comes to the door?"

"We'll tell 'em to go away," Jane husked, leaning over to kiss the pulse point on Maura's neck.

This elicited a breathy moan from Maura, and Jane couldn't help grinning to herself. She wasn't sure exactly why, but she _loved_ how easy it was for her to get those kinds of sounds out of the refined Dr. Isles. In every other aspect of her life, Maura was tidy and generally respectfully soft-spoken. But when Jane caressed her skin with a few fingers or her tongue—and especially if the touching went beyond a caress —Maura would start sounding primal. It contrasted so heavily with her typical demeanor, and Jane loved being the only person who could get those noises out of her.

There was also something about the way she looked. Even when the heat outside was blistering, Maura somehow managed to look well-composed. Her hair would be pulled back or swept up, rarely out of place. Persistent fanning or a few dabs with a handkerchief would rid her face of excess moisture. Once she'd been through the throes of passion, though, it was a different story: her hair was down and stuck to the sweat gleaming on her face; her eyes would darken and her lips would get a bit swollen.

"Not again, not right now," Maura groaned when Jane started moving against her. "I've got to get dinner started—and I should probably bathe, actually. You could stand to, as well."

"Hell no, I just did!" Jane laughed. "Besides, Maura, I like smellin' like this." She snatched Maura's dress out of her loose grip and growled into her ear, "I like havin' the privilege of smelling like the animal in you."

They didn't get around to dinner quite as early as Maura had anticipated.

When they did finally sit down to eat, it was at a table Jane had set for a meal she had made while Maura had taken a bath. For a few moments they ate in comfortable silence, until Maura decided she wanted to bring up something they had been discussing earlier.

"It could be like our honeymoon," she said quite out of nowhere.

"What?"

"If we went to Boston. It could be…like a honeymoon," Maura said, blushing a little under Jane's gaze. Maybe that suggestion sounded even sillier spoken out loud than it did in her head.

But Jane had only been momentarily thrown by the sudden conversation topic, and smiled when she got Maura's meaning. "I think that'd be a right nice idea, darlin'."

"And I…I want you to come as my husband."

Jane reached across the table and took Maura's hand, rubbing a thumb along her knuckles. This got Maura to look up from her plate, and she felt relieved to see Jane's subdued smile still in place. "I'd be honored to present myself as such to your old hometown," she said.

Maura grinned and leaned over the table to give Jane a quick kiss. "What would I call you?"

"You should probably stick with Jake," was the reply. "That'd be easier for you to say than if we made up a new name, wouldn't it? It wouldn't feel like so much of a lie for ya."

"Fair point."

"But not Wyatt," Jane said shortly. Even though it would just be pretend, Jane didn't like the idea of giving Maura an outlaw's name. Furthermore, Jane didn't want to associate herself with him anymore if she could avoid it. Noticing the apprehensive look on Maura's face, Jane tried to lighten her up by saying, "That wouldn't sound very good with your name. Maura Wyatt? Sounds terrible, don't it?"

"So…what about Rizzoli?" Maura asked.

Jane couldn't deny feeling her heart skip a beat. "You'd go by Rizzoli?"

"If you felt comfortable with it."

"I'd—I would love you to go by that, actually," Jane admitted with a hoarse laugh, taking Maura's other hand as well. "Mrs. Rizzoli."

Maura had to reflect Jane's smile at hearing the name, but it faded as the implications of all this sunk in. "But you'd be Jake," she said. "Jake Rizzoli." She dropped one of Jane's hands, sighing and rubbing her forehead. "I feel so torn, Jane. I want you to be able to just be yourself."

"Aw hell, Maura, I don't mind," Jane said. "And besides, if I go pretendin' to be Jake Rizzoli, that means there's a lot I don't _have _to hide. Folks will know I think of you as my wife. They'll know what it means when you've got your arm in mine, or I kiss ya on the cheek, or I tell you I love ya. I can hold ya however I want, I can look at ya however I want, and won't nobody think twice about it."

What Jane failed to realize was how often she did this in Hollow Creek. It was true that women could act quite familiarly with each other in public without raising any eyebrows. It was also true that despite how often Jane and Maura seemed to have their hands on each other in town, not many people ever wondered if there was something greater than friendship between them. What nobody doubted for a second was that Jane would lay down her life for Maura, and vice versa—something which, sadly, could not be said of every married couple in town.

"It'd be freeing in a way, wouldn't it?" Jane whispered. "It'd be so honest."

"I see your point, Jane, but it always seemed important to you that I recognize you for what you are. A woman, not Jake."

"That _is_ important to me, Maura," Jane said seriously. "But it only ever mattered that much when I kissed ya for the first time. I had to make sure you were… that you wanted _me_, not him. Y'know, that you weren't confused or nothin'. And you've made it pretty clear more than once where exactly you stand," she said with a small smirk, finally getting a chuckle out of Maura. "That's all I ever wanted, sweetheart. I had to make sure it was _me_ you loved, not somebody made up. Maybe other people wouldn't understand how we feel. Maybe they'd be afraid. But _you _know what I am, and who I am, and that's all what matters to me."

"It is?"

"Yeah. Let all them high-class folks in Boston think you went and rid yourself of Garrett Fairfield so you could marry the manliest, toughest, most rugged and fearless man the west had to offer!"

"Or that I _tamed_ that man," Maura joked.

"In the only fight I was ever happy to lose," Jane said, holding her hands up in a sign of surrender. "Tell me, though Maura. How many fella's in Boston do you think'd try and take your hand now that they know Fairfield ain't in the cards anymore?"

"Oh, none of them, I should imagine," Maura answered casually. "I've told you before, Jane. Most of them think I'm quite strange."

Jane wasn't sure she believed this. She could accept that Maura would assume things were that way, but Jane was not naïve enough herself to think for a second that any man in Boston wouldn't at least try and edge his way into Maura's life. This reminded her: "Say, Maura. Tommy came by when you was in town earlier today."

"Did he?"

"Yeah. Brought those flowers on the table over there."

Glancing at them, Maura said, "Oh, really? They're lovely."

"He thinks _you're _lovely," Jane mumbled.

"That's sweet of him."

"No, Maura, he…" Jane sighed and put down her fork. "I reckon he'd like to court ya."

This seemed like such a hilarious idea to Maura that she actually laughed. "Jane, don't be silly! Tommy's been a good friend to me almost since I got here. Nothing more."

"Yeah, well, that's only on account of the fact that you been engaged for most of the time he's known ya."

Maura's smile faltered when she realized Jane was being completely serious. "Jane! It's just your imagination. Garrett has been gone for a couple of months now. Tommy's very straightforward—why wouldn't he have said anything?"

"I dunno, maybe 'cause he thought it'd be indecent to propose to you so soon after Fairfield left," Jane grumbled.

"_Propose? _Jane, don't exaggerate. Did he say something to you?"

"No…it's what he _didn't _say."

"Jane, Tommy loves you. He respects you. If his intentions were in fact to court me, why wouldn't he have just told you so?"

That was a fair point. "I dunno, 'cause he wouldn't want me gettin' upset or nothin'. Or maybe he's just bidin' his time to say something until he's sure I got roots here. Hell Maura, everyone seems to know if it weren't for you, I might not even be here anymore. In Hollow Creek, I mean. So… so maybe Tommy figures if you up and got married, I'd leave." She sighed, picking up a chicken bone and needlessly turning it in her fingers. "And I ain't so sure he'd be wrong. Or maybe…" She snapped the small bone in half, her voice lowering. "He thinks if he risked makin' a move on my best friend, I'd pummel him into kingdom come."

"Oh Jane, you wouldn't really, would you?" Maura asked. When Jane's only response was a dark glare, Maura said, "I still think you're being paranoid. If Tommy wouldn't be honest with _you _about his intentions, what makes you think he wouldn't tell me?"

This could also have been a good point, but considering Maura's occasional obliviousness of certain social cues, Jane could easily imagine Tommy trying to make a point and Maura missing it completely. Still, subtlety wasn't really Tommy's thing. "Maybe 'cause deep down he knows he ain't good enough for ya."

"And why wouldn't he be?"

"Lots of reasons," Jane answered shortly, her petulance increasing. "I know the boy can play chess, but that don't mean he's smart—and you need someone smart. I mean, I may not be smart as you, but at least I'm tryin'. Tommy ain't got any ambition. Frankie's worked his way up to bein' a deputy while Tommy just lazes around 'cause Angela spoils him. Plus Frankie's said Tommy fancies himself a heartbreaker. Likes chasin' girls like it's a sport or somethin'."

"If it's so easy for him to find accommodating women, why would he be interested in me?" Maura asked with sincere curiosity.

"Because look at ya!" Jane cried. "You're beautiful and you smell like the color pink and you know how to play chess! Any fella'd have to be all kinds of crazy not to fall in love with you. You're just about perfect, Maura, y'know that?"

Sensing a lighter atmosphere was in order, Maura said, "Only 'just about' perfect? What are your complaints, Calamity Jane?"

Jane knew she was being mollified, but considering the source, she couldn't bring herself to mind at the moment. Feigning a thoughtful frown, she said, "You don't scold. You don't nag enough. And you look far too pretty in the mornings."

"I'll start work on those immediately," Maura said with a grin. They resumed eating in silence for a few moments, until Maura spoke up in a slightly more serious voice again. "Jane."

"Yes?"

"You know you're the only Rizzoli I've ever been interested in, don't you?"

That brought Jane's smile back in full force. "Yeah, Maura. I know."

* * *

The next day, Maura wrote a return letter for Charlotte Hughes which said little more than she planned on returning to Boston as soon as possible with her spouse in tow. She was so excited about the prospect of showing Jane the east coast that she forgot to be sad about the fact that her father wouldn't be there.

That, actually, was how Jane convinced Korsak to let her go. She explained that this was going to be a very sentimental and probably emotional trip for Maura, and as she didn't have very many close friends in Boston, it would be good for her to have a friendly face around. This was true: Jane hoped that her presence would be comforting in some way, and possibly distract Maura from the sadness of officially selling her childhood home. Understanding and appreciating Jane's intentions, Korsak said she probably deserved the time off anyway.

Besides, Korsak reasoned that Frankie and Frost ought to be able to help him enough in Jane's absence. Maura had asked one of Dr. Callahan's assistants to come down from Green Forge to cover the town while she was gone, which helped her feel a little less guilty about leaving. The train ride alone was four and a half days one way, and Maura still wasn't entirely sure how long they would be staying in Boston.

Maura was happy to do most of the packing herself. One of the first things she squirreled away in her trunk was the box of French undergarments, thinking it would be a nice surprise for Jane on their first night in Boston. She had also taken it upon herself to order numerous new ensembles for Jane through Adelaide that would help her blend a little more nicely into the crowd of Boston gentlemen—which included new shoes that weren't cowboy boots, ties that weren't bolo ties, and even a couple of hats. Jane was wary of the dandy apparel, but couldn't bring herself to refuse anything that brought such a smile to Maura's face. And nothing brought a smile to Maura's face quite like getting the chance to buy new clothes for Jane.

Jane had been helping somewhat in the packing process until the night before they were scheduled to leave town. While she was moving a particularly heavy piece of luggage, Jo Friday had started yapping at a bird she saw outside. Normally this wouldn't have startled Jane, but she hadn't been aware that Jo was indoors and right behind her.

It was the sound of loud Italian swearing that caused Maura to come running into the living room, where she saw Jane sitting on the floor, grabbing her foot and looking extremely pained. "Jane! What happened?"

"Aw, dammit," Jane groaned, yanking off her shoe to rub her foot directly. Nodding at the open front door, she explained, "I was gonna take this trunk out to the carriage, and then Jo started barkin' like a maniac and it took me by surprise. I kinda rolled on my foot, and then this thing fell on it."

"You dropped _this _on your foot?" Maura asked, trying and failing to pick up the excessively heavy piece of luggage.

Jane nodded, gritting her teeth. "Son of a gun! This hurts like hell!"

"Let me see it," Maura said, getting on her knees and gently taking Jane's foot in her hand. "Does this hur—"

"OW!"

"Jane! Stop squirming!"

"Stop touching it!" Jane cried, wanting to sound annoyed but having to chuckle at Maura's expression. "It'll be fine in a second, doc, I swear." She gingerly pulled her foot out of Maura's grasp, but when she tried to get up, had to sit back down immediately. "Just… give it a second, yeah?"

"Sure. You ought to wait and see if it starts swelling or bruising."

Pulling an adorable pout, Jane said, "How do I make the pain go away?"

"Are you telling me that you, Calamity Jane Rizzoli, are hurting because you dropped a piece of luggage on your foot?"

"C'mon, doc, cut me some slack. I've grown weak on your watch, y'know."

"Mm, I make you, the great and mighty one, weak?" Maura asked, leaning in closer.

"Very," Jane murmured. She pulled Maura in for a kiss, threading her fingers through that golden hair and moaning softly.

"Is this helping?" Maura whispered against Jane's lips.

Jane grinned as Maura left a series of kisses across her cheek and down her neck. "Very much," she breathed just before Maura went to kiss her mouth again. "Mm… do you do this for all your patients, Dr. Isles?"

"Let's put it this way," Maura said quietly, leaving a kiss on Jane's forehead. "You are far and away my favorite house call to make." She stood back up and offered a hand to Jane. "You ought to lie down for a little while, all right? I don't want you putting any undue stress on that foot for the rest of tonight. I'll go into town and ask Frankie and Frost if they wouldn't mind helping us get the heavier pieces of luggage into the carriage tomorrow."

With Maura's help, Jane limped back to the bedroom and lay down. Maura took one of the hats she had yet to pack and put it on as she headed for the open front door. It wasn't until she had actually walked outside the house that she noticed Angela walking briskly away from it.

"Angela?"

But the woman did not stop or turn around at Maura's voice, even though she was fairly close. Maura called out again, louder, and when Angela still did not reply, a sudden terrifying thought occurred to Maura. Their front door had been open. What if Angela had seen them together on the floor? What if she—_oh, heavenly mercy, she must have seen something. Why else would she have come all the way up here, only to leave without saying anything to us?_

Panicked, Maura deliberated for a minute or two about what to do as Angela got further and further away. She was sure if she went back to tell Jane, Jane would worry with her, perhaps without purpose. Jane would want to follow Angela and find out what she'd been doing up there and why she was leaving, but that would stress her foot more. _Should I wait? What is Angela thinking? If she saw something, should I let Jane try to explain it?_

Thinking became too much for her, and Maura found herself running down the dirt road after Angela. She was not wearing the proper shoes for it at all and was not able to go very fast, but she saw that Angela had just walked into the small building attached to Korsak's corral. When Maura finally arrived at its door, breathless and sweating, she knocked hard. A few moments of waiting brought no reply, and when the same thing happened after she knocked again, Maura opened the door.

She had never been inside before. Angela was standing in front of a wash basin filled with old water, a rag in one hand and a wooden plate in the other. Her eyes stayed down, though she was very much aware of Maura's presence. To say that this was unnerving to the doctor would be putting it lightly, especially when the only sound in the room continued to be her own labored breathing. Eventually she figured she was going to have to be the person to initiate conversation, Maura waited to catch her breath before finally talking.

"Angela… why… did you leave? Why didn't you answer when I called after you?" Still no response or acknowledgement of her presence. Angela slowly started washing the plate, and Maura spoke again in a nervous whisper. "What did you see?"

Considering her silence up to this point, Angela's answer came quick and terse: "I saw my daughter in the arms of another woman."

The fear that had been coiled like a snake in the pit of Maura's stomach lurched up into her throat, momentarily blocking her ability to speak. Angela's tone had been scared, confused, and hurt. "Is… that all?"

"No," Angela said softly. "That wasn't all."

Now Maura wished Jane was with her. Jane would be able to smoothly lie their way out of this, she would come up with some excuse. She could think on her feet. Maura couldn't. "Angela—Angela, please… look at me."

It was the tears in Maura's voice that finally got Angela to look up. This moment felt real to neither of them. It was too sudden, too dramatic, too emotional. "What was that?" Angela whispered. "Maura—women don't …they don't kiss each other like that."

"Well we do," Maura heard herself saying. Not defiantly or angrily, but defensively. Even desperately.

Angela looked as shocked at the response as Maura did. "W…why?" she asked blankly. When Maura couldn't answer her right away, she tried to guess. "She was drunk? You feel lonely with Mr. Fairfield gone?"

"No, Angela, that isn't it," Maura whispered. But she could offer no further explanation. Her tongue was tied, her thoughts felt frozen. She was at an utter loss for words as fear consumed her.

Angela shook her head again. "I've never understood Janie. Not ever. But I've always loved her, Maura, in spite of her more odd qualities. But this…"

"I know it's odd," Maura said quickly. "And I know it doesn't seem… right… but…"

She was going to trail off anyway, but Angela held up a hand to silence her. She was visibly trembling now, her other hand at her mouth, tears falling from her eyes. "Jane thinks I nag her," Angela finally got out. "Sh-she thinks I want to change her. And sometimes I guess I do. But I won't ever forget, Dr. Isles, I won't ever forget the night the Sheriff found her and her father …I was the only one there when she woke up again."

This was a story she had shared with no one, and would not now with Maura, either. At least, not in its entirety. She couldn't help the memory passing through her mind, though.

_She had finally worn herself out crying, and by the time Jane woke up, Angela had used her tears up entirely. Or so she believed. When Jane's dark eyes fluttered open, Angela did her best to smile. "Hi, sweetheart."_

_Jane looked at her as though she'd never seen her before. Her chest heaved deeply; she winced and stared at her heavily bandaged palms, blinked, and turned back to Angela. "Pop. He got my Pop." Her voice was dry, hoarse._

"_Darling, I know," Angela said softly. She pursed her lips, remembering how Korsak had told her not to make Jane recount the previous night's evens, but what if Jane __wanted__ to tell someone about it? "Janie? Do you want …to talk about it?"_

_Jane was lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling. A long silence followed Angela's question, and peering closer, the woman saw that Jane's chin was quivering. She finally spoke when Angela squeezed her arm. She managed to choke out the only word she could think of: "Lost."_

"_What?" Angela whispered._

"_Lost." Jane slowly, painfully turned to look at Angela again, hot tears starting to well up in her eyes. With a short sob, the tears fell, burning her skin. "I'm lost."_

_It almost hurt when Angela pulled her instantly into a tight embrace. Her tear ducts were suddenly active again with this crying orphan in her arms, no words of comfort coming to her as Jane sobbed the same phrase over and over: "I'm lost, Ma, I'm lost!"_

A massive headache had come quite suddenly to Angela, and she tensely rubbed her forehead. She still felt blindsided and confused by what she had seen, but those feelings were being ebbed away by what was in front of her eyes right now: Maura Isles, weeping quietly and nervously, red in the face.

"My Janie was lost for a long time," Angela said with no idea of how long their silence had lasted. "She went runnin' all over the country lookin' for answers, but she only found herself with you. That much I know. I may not understand it, but I know it. I won't ever …be able to tell you how grateful I am for that." With a heavy sigh, Angela returned her gaze to her dishes. "I don't know …I don't understand exactly what sort of relationship you and Jane are in right now. You seem a little more than friends." She glanced up and nothing in Maura's face refuted her assertion. "I don't care to _ever _know or understand. You hear me, Dr. Isles? Don't ever tell me."

Her tone was soft, but the words made it feel like a heavy stone was settling into Maura's gut. "May I say one thing?"

There was a loaded pause before Angela looked back down at the basin and mutely nodded.

"I don't know fully what it is either, Angela, and I certainly can't say that I understand it completely all the time. All I know is that it… feels more right than I can explain. Jane has given me so much and—and we need each other in so many ways."

"But Maura, what happens when you get married?"

Maura took a deep breath to steady herself. She couldn't lie. Her only options were to give into fear or sound courageous, like she hoped Jane would have her do. In a voice that was steadier than she felt, Maura replied, "So long as Jane stays with me, I won't be getting married, Angela. She fulfills my every need." Angela inhaled sharply, shutting Maura up immediately—this was exactly what she didn't want to hear about. She looked up again at Maura, who appeared startled, possibly afraid.

Tears blurred Angela's vision when she spoke: "Look, Dr. Isles. The one thing in life that Jane deserves above everything else in this world is happiness. I told myself I didn't care what it took to make her happy, so long as she wasn't hurtin' nobody. Dr. Isles… Maura …I ain't ever seen Jane so _alive _with joy than when I've seen her with you. So far as I can see, she ain't hurtin' nobody—in fact, since _you _come along, I'd say she's become a sight _less _dangerous!" They both laughed, although it was a nervous, hesitant sound. When Angela sobered up, she continued. "Dr. Isles… you're sweet. You're a lady."

"I'm good for her," Maura said, and Angela nodded.

There were so many more questions. How long had this been going on? Whose idea had it been? Was it the reason for the Mr. Fairfield's departure, or the other way around? Maura had a funny way of talking sometimes—when she said Jane fulfilled her every need, perhaps she hadn't meant it exactly the way Angela had interpreted it. Women kissed their friends. Not that intimately, but maybe Jane wanted it because she was lonely. Maybe because she dressed and acted so much like a man, she was confused, and Maura was trying to help.

Or maybe… there was something real there. Maybe they had fallen in love in a way Angela had not believed possible.

Angela set down the dishrag and the plate, walking over to Maura and pulling her into an embrace to calm herself down if nothing else. Though she felt awkward returning it at first, Maura gave herself over to it, emotion overwhelming her, overwhelming them both.

* * *

**A/N**: Phew. Okay. Thanks for reading! If you're so inclined, check out a new tumblr blog I posted today called "ask calamity jane," a in case there are any questions or curiosities you've got :)


	4. Shipping Up to Boston

"So should I treat you different?"

"Hm?"

"When we're in Boston. Should I treat you different?"

"What do you mean?"

Jane and Maura were currently on the train that would take them to the east coast, their luggage stowed and Jane's foot resting on the seat across from her, next to Maura, in their small private compartment. Korsak and Frankie had driven them to the station in Mesa and helped load their things onto the platform, leaving promptly after their farewells. As per Jane and Maura's plan, they had gotten to the station so early that they were the first people there, giving Jane time to carefully apply her fake mustache of choice. This one was a tad less ostentatious than the one Jake Wyatt wore, tapering out towards the corners of her mouth, and with no matching beard. She also pulled her hair up and hid it under her hat, in case anyone arriving at the station might have recognized the area-famous female deputy. When other passengers did indeed begin to show up (and there weren't very many of them), Jane was overly chatty, eager for their trip to begin.

Maura hadn't said a word about her conversation with Angela.

It was the first time she had ever kept something from Jane. After leaving Angela to finish up her work at the corral (that Korsak had hired her to do), Maura went into town to ask Frost and Frankie if they would come with Korsak in the morning to help carry out the girls' luggage. That way, when Maura returned home, she could stay true to her reason for having gone out in the first place.

"_Sweetheart, you all right? You don't look so good."_

_Maura did her best to smile, trying to avoid the stomach ache she could feel coming on. "I'm fine, just tired. And a little nervous about our trip, I suppose." _

_She sat down on the edge of the bed when Jane held an arm out to her. "It'll be okay, Maura. I'll be there, and you can count on me for whatever ya need, all right? There ain't nothin' to worry about. It's gonna be great. Believe me." _

"_Mm-hm. How's your foot?"_

"_Oh, it's fine. Feels right back to normal."_

Maybe at some point Maura would have said something about Angela, but Jane spent the next half hour or so talking about nothing but their trip to Boston. She had been so busy with work while they were actually preparing to leave that she hadn't gotten much of a chance to gush about it to Maura, and oh heavens, was she now. Jane tended to be enthusiastic and talkative about most things anyway, but there was something different about this—she kept coming up with new things to be looking forward to, new ideas to share, new questions to ask. Her excitement ebbed away the slow-growing anxiety that had been building in Maura's gut, but that apprehension came back once Jane finally drifted into sleep.

Even though Angela hadn't condemned Maura, even though it seemed she wanted to ignore what she had seen, even though it could have gone _much_ worse, Maura did not want to bring it up. Jane wouldn't be able to enjoy herself on this trip at all. Regardless of the fact that Angela had promised not to breathe a word of what she'd seen to anybody, Maura knew Jane would worry about that happening. It was true Angela had a big mouth, but considering she didn't want to seem to think about it much herself, there was nobody she would gossip to. The fact of the matter was that she knew, and there was nothing that could be done about that information—especially not when Jane and Maura were on the other side of the country. Why make Jane stress about it?

_I'll tell her when we get back. Let her enjoy this sabbatical from town, from her job—let us both enjoy it. She doesn't need to know yet_.

Maura took comfort mostly in the embrace Angela had last given her. Maybe she didn't understand their relationship. Maybe she didn't approve of it or think it was right. But she hadn't said or done anything violent or cruel—quite the opposite in fact. She hadn't vowed to disown them as daughters. She seemed resigned to the notion that Jane was happy, and interference was the last thing she needed. That gave Maura plenty of hope that Angela still loved them, but it would be impossible for Jane—who hadn't been there, who always needed to hear and see things for herself—to do anything but fret the entire time they were away.

So Maura decided to keep it to herself.

After a somewhat restless night, Maura had hoped for a quiet beginning to their train ride, but Jane could not for the life of her stop talking.

"How d'you reckon I oughtta treat ya?" she repeated when Maura seemed to have spaced out for the tenth time. "Would the fellas in Boston think it was funny if I was too nice to ya? Or, what's the word you used the other day—def…"

"Deferential?" Maura offered with a small smile.

"Yeah, that was the one! Do ya think we could sell this whole married thing a little easier if I weren't so def-rential to ya? Maybe _you _should try bein' a little more of it to _me_," Jane said, folding her arms and feigning a cross look, which finally got Maura to laugh a little bit. Jane cracked a grin too. "What're you laughin' about, little woman? You tryin' to make a joke outta your husband?" She brought her leg down and slapped her own lap. "Get your ass over here."

"I do think it might be best if you would refrain from using language like that while we're in Boston," Maura said, obediently settling herself on Jane's lap and putting her arms around Jane's neck.

"Mm, right. What was it in French?"

"_Derriere_."

"Oh yeah, I liked that one." Jane snaked one hand down to Maura's rear, giving it a pinch through her many layers of skirts. "_Derriere_!"

Maura giggled and gave Jane a short kiss, not wanting to accidentally dislodge the fake facial hair. "Hm, _that's _going to take some getting used to," she said, gently running her finger down one side of the mustache. "Although you won't be wearing it when we're alone, and I suppose I won't be kissing you very much in public."

"You won't?" Jane asked with a frown.

"No, dear, that wouldn't be proper," Maura said patiently. "But I promise—" She left a long kiss on Jane's cheek. "Everyone will know and see how much I love you, anyway. If I may make a request?"

"Anything," Jane whispered, her lips brushing against Maura's jaw.

"Treat me the way you treat me at home."

Maura's tone was serious, but Jane couldn't fight a smile. "And how's that, Dr. Isles?"

The answer seemed simple. "Like you love me. Like you respect me. Like I'm your best friend."

"Well God knows it won't be easy, but I'll try," Jane said with a grin.

"You know what won't be easy?"

"What?"

"Keeping myself from kissing you in public." With that, Maura offered one more small peck before climbing off Jane's lap and back onto her own seat, explaining, "It's easier to appraise you from over here. My, my, Jake Rizzoli. You are one handsome devil, you know that?"

"Yes," Jane replied stoically. "Yes I do."

A moment later they both burst into hysterical laughter, true though Maura's assessment had been. They had spent an inordinately long time deciding what to do about Jane's hair, as neither of them even considered cutting it too short. (Neither of them mentioned the particular reason for this, which was the role Jane's hair seemed to play when they were making love: Maura could only ever ground herself by tangling her fingers in Jane's curls, and Jane adored the way that felt.) Jane was worried about looking too uncouth in front of the Boston elite and embarrassing Maura, but Maura said she honestly didn't care that much. So, Jane adopted a look accepted by Bill Cody and Bill Hickock, cutting her hair to just below her shoulders and keeping on a mustache. It wasn't quite the style in Boston, but if it was good enough for Buffalo Bill and Wild Bill, Maura believed it was good enough for Jane. After all, they weren't going to Boston to ingratiate themselves into northeastern society. Let Jane's inherent Western-ness shine through.

The reason Jane was in disguise at all right now was because of the fact the train's personnel (if not at least a few of the passengers) would be with them in Boston, and there was a possibility of raising a few eyebrows if Maura boarded the train with another woman and ultimately left it with someone who appeared to be a man.

It wasn't until they were preparing to go to dinner that Maura finally got up the courage to inquire about something she thought was missing from Jane's disguise. The curtains to their compartment were drawn, offering even more privacy than the closed doors and giving Maura the extra encouragement that she could not be overheard.

"Jane?" she whispered.

"Yes?"

Maura tried to sound casual, running a brush through her hair, as if this question was of little consequence. "I only wondered if you might—well, you… when you have masqueraded as a man in the past, I noticed you were, uh…" The brush got caught in a tangle, and Maura hissed, her next words coming out very quickly as she kept her eyes determinedly on the passing scenery in he window. "There are certain anatomical differences between men and women, and while I realize you're wearing enough layers to hide your thin chest—"

"Thank you," Jane chuckled.

"—and that it could possibly go unnoticed if you weren't to try compensating for… a… piece of anatomy you do not posses—"

"Maura," Jane gently interrupted, for fear that the woman's head would explode if her face got any redder. "Lemme show ya something." She pulled a small bag down onto her seat, and after rummaging through it, removed a long, thick sock.

"What's that?" Maura asked warily.

"This," Jane said, handing it over, "is my manhood." She laughed when Maura almost dropped the thing. "Frost and I figured it was the best we'd come to the real thing. I just balled up a couple other socks and stuffed 'em in there, and there ya have it."

"And it works?" Maura asked, handing it back.

Jane stood up and smirked, unbuttoning her trousers. "Accordin' to you it does," she said. "Weren't you just sayin' ya noticed it before? Guess I wasn't the only one gettin' an eyeful when we was at Stanley's tavern, huh?"

"I never stared at it," Maura said reproachfully, feeling a blush crawl up her face. She kept her eyes fixed on Jane's face as Jane calmly stuck the sock into her pants. "I felt it—when you came up to the dressing room and pressed yourself into me from behind."

"Oh, yeah," Jane muttered, feeling a little embarrassed as she always did when she recalled how she'd treated Maura that night. She buttoned her trousers back up and in a deeper voice than usual asked, "How's it look?"

"Very natural," Maura said thoughtfully.

"Not too big?" Jane asked sincerely.

"No, I don't think so," Maura whispered, standing up. "How is it when you walk?"

"Oh, it stays put," Jane said with a bit of a roguish grin, taking the few small steps she could in their compartment. "See?"

All sense of decorum suddenly gone, Maura impulsively reached out for the bulge to see what it felt like when Jane walked back in front of her. Jane, who had been mid-step, gasped at the sudden sensation, and her eyes locked with Maura's.

They were late for dinner.

The dining car was filled with mostly older couples, a few of whom exchanged friendly glances with Jane and Maura as they walked in and sat down. Both of them loved the fact that everyone in there presumed they were married. It was such a simple but indescribably wonderful gift, and they couldn't help but take advantage of the freedom. Jane had led Maura into the car by hand, and didn't let go when they sat down opposite each other. It just felt too good to be able to hold her hand and look at her for as long as Jane wanted, without worry of rousing any suspicion or strange looks.

Jane loved feeling the fine material of Maura's gloves. Her own hands were comfortably bare, even though Maura had informed her that it would be perfectly suitable for a gentlemen to cover his hands with the proper type of glove (six pairs of which were packed with them). But when it was just the two of them and there was no work to be done, Jane preferred to leave the gloves off. There was so much she had missed out on before by ridding herself of that precious gift of touch.

As they waited for their food to arrive, Maura's eyes kept drifting to the window next to them. "What're you thinkin' about?" Jane asked quietly, running her thumb across the back of Maura's fingers.

Maura gave Jane's hand a squeeze, murmuring, "Those clouds. The sun is nearly gone, and you can still see them. Aren't they lovely?"

Jane spared a glance for them. "Yeah."

Maura continued to stare at them, smiling mostly to herself. "Do you remember, Jake, the last time we were on a train together? You said the passing landscape reminded you of my mother's paintings. Everything's in motion, but you still get the general idea of what's passing you by." She looked back at Jane, who was smiling in remembrance of the occasion. "I never really understood all the value my mother saw in abstraction, in letting yourself go. It made me feel uncomfortable, and I much preferred solid, non-negotiable reality." She shook her head and caught Jane's eye again. "Jake, I love what you've done to me—how you've shown me it's all right to let my head rest in the clouds now and then."

"I'm the one who oughtta be thankin' you," Jane said with a crooked grin. "You're the one keepin' my feet on the ground when they need to be."

The elderly couple who had been sitting at the table behind Jane and Maura stopped by just then on their way out of the cart. "Excuse me," the woman said, beaming down at the two of them. "Newlyweds?"

"You could say that, yes ma'am," Jane replied with a grin.

"You see, Earl? I told you!" the old woman giggled, giving her chortling husband a light shove. "How long, dears?"

"Just over a month," Jane answered.

"Well, may the two of you be as happy many years down the road as you seem to be now," said Earl. "Lydia and I are just three days away from celebrating our fiftieth wedding anniversary, as a matter of fact!"

"Oh, how wonderful!" Maura gushed. "Jake, if we're to make it that long, you'd better be a little more careful on the job."

"Aw, I ain't so reckless!"

"Like adventure, eh, son?" Earl asked, clapping a surprisingly sturdy hand on Jane's shoulder. She looked up at him, and he said sternly, "Don't you go breaking this girl's heart, now. A man who can't call himself a family man ain't so much of a man, is he?"

"Uh…no, sir, I reckon not," Jane said.

"Oh now, Earl, let's leave them to their evening," Lydia said, tugging her husband's sleeve. "You two have a nice trip!"

Jane and Maura returned the sentiment, and their food arrived shortly thereafter. As they ate, Maura began interviewing Jane in a style they had discussed, figuring there was a good possibility some of Maura's former acquaintances would want to get to know Jane a bit better.

"So Jake, tell me," Maura said. "What is your occupation out there in the wild west?"

"Well, Miss, I'm a deputy," Jane smoothly replied. "Been workin' for the law for quite some time now. It ain't always easy work, but sometimes that's the work that's most worth doin'."

"Mm, how interesting," Maura said, feigning an unimpressed look. "So what exactly is it that you do, day by day?"

"That depends on what day it is. If I'm workin' a lot, it could include a whole lotta things that'd bore ya to tears to hear about. We stop robberies, catch criminals, and try to bring a little bit of order to the county, best we can."

Maura put on another voice to say, "Well, that must be quite fulfilling!"

"Yes, it is," Jane said lightly. "But you wanna know the most rewarding job I've got?"

"What?"

"Makin' Maura smile."

"Oh, Jane," Maura whispered, the name muffled as one hand went up to cover a chuckle. That was certainly not the answer she'd been expecting.

Jane laughed as well. "What? It's true! Y'know, I probably don't tell her this often enough—but some days when I come home and we ain't had a very successful day… crooks got away, or someone got hurt, or we was too late for somethin'—I get home, and Maura's there, and all of my disappointment just seems to go away. And I think to myself, if I can get Maura to smile just once, this day won't be wasted. And I ain't had a wasted day with her yet. Have you seen her smile? 'Cause it's the loveliest one you'll ever see by far. Show me a lovelier one and I'll show you a pig that can fly. It'd be worth dyin' for, that smile."

"May you never have to resort to that," Maura said quietly, grinning like a fool at Jane's words.

"I don't aim to."

When it became dark, they returned to their compartment. Maura suggested some reading, and when Jane opened her own travel bag to get out a worn copy of _Treasure Island_, she wound up pulling out a letter instead.

"What's that?" Maura asked.

"Huh. A letter." Jane unfolded it and smiled. "Hey, it's from Ma!"

Maura instantly stood up a little straighter, heart racing. "Angela?"

"No, 'Ma' as in Stanley," Jane said sarcastically. "Want me to read it out loud?"

"Er—can I read it?" Maura asked nervously, reaching out her hand. Jane often conceded as Maura was the faster reader, and this way, maybe she could edit out any details about the conversation she and Angela had had that the woman may have included.

But Jane waved her hand. "Naw, c'mon, she wrote it to me. I'll get us through, it don't worry." She cleared her throat and gave the letter a dramatic flourish. "A-hem: '_Dear Janie – it is now just past 5:00 in the morning and I am sitting outside the Sheriff's office. I want to give him this letter for you on his way to pick up you and Maura. I know you are very excited about your trip to Boston and I hope you two girls have a lovely time. It feels nice to know where you're going for once, even though I know there are probably still a lot of things you don't tell me. Maybe you will never tell me some things, but that's the way life is suppose to be, I guess. Jane, I love you so much and am so glad to see you so happy. I know I can always count on you to do the right thing even if it takes you a while to get there. May God bless and keep you on your trip, and be with you until we meet again. Love, Ma.' _Huh. Well! That was nice, wasn't it?"

Maura had turned her back to Jane as she undressed so her face wouldn't give her away. "Mm-hm," she said. She ultimately picked up the letter herself to scan it as Jane undressed as well, and Maura couldn't help wondering if Angela had suspected she'd read it, too. It was nice to get the confirmation that Angela wasn't going to turn her back on Jane for whatever relationship she seemed to be in with Maura, but it was also pretty clear she wanted to go back to pretending it didn't exist. That was probably the best reaction they could hope for.

It took a while, but Jane eventually figured out how to open the bed in their berth. Although the quarters were cramped and not particularly comfortable, Jane and Maura loved every night spent on that train ride. For once they had nowhere to be in the morning, so they could stay up later than usual and sleep in as long as they wanted.

On the morning of the day they were set to arrive in Boston, Maura couldn't help noticing that Jane seemed a little anxious. "Are you all right, dear?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, I'm fine," Jane muttered, kneading her hands. She glanced up at Maura and knew the woman could see right through her. "I just …I dunno, I mean I don't care if they don't like me or if they don't think I'm good enough for ya after Fairfield, but I don't want 'em judgin' _you _for it. I don't wanna embarrass ya."

"Darling, that's very sweet, but we've talked about this," Maura said, sitting down opposite Jane and taking her hands. "We're not going to Boston to try and impress all the people in a society I wanted to get away from. We are going …so I can say goodbye to it, officially. I spent too much of my youth feeling bad about how other people my age there perceived me, and I intend never to let that rule me again. I'm a citizen of Hollow Creek, Arizona, not Boston, Massachusetts—it'll take more than a few snide looks and raised eyebrows to phase _me_."

Jane smiled nervously. "Think we'll be okay, huh?"

"I know it. In fact, the only thing I'm worried about is instilling envy on all the other ladies when they see what a specimen I'm married to."

They both laughed like it was a joke, but neither had any idea how true the statement would turn out to be.

Jane was dressed very much to impress, wearing the first of the ensembles Adelaide had made specifically for this trip. The clothes were very new and very clean, which would make them rather difficult to criticize. Her pressed brown trousers matched the thick vest she wore over a rust-colored shirt, which itself was the most western-styled piece of apparel she was wearing. Boots were always Jane's footwear of choice, but she had forgone them (at least today) for a pair of sensible dark-brown shoes with no heel. Now Maura, wearing a periwinkle-blue dress, was a little closer to her in height.

"So your friend Charlotte's meeting us at the station, right?"

"Yes—oh and Jane, I'm sure you'll like her."

When 3:00 rolled around, Charlotte was indeed waiting at the station with her two younger sisters, Emily and Anne, both of whom had come with her out of eagerness to see the husband Maura had casually mentioned she would be bringing along. While they waited for the train to arrive, the younger girls pegged Charlotte insistently with questions about it at all, as if Charlotte had been in correspondence with Maura since.

"Did she say anything else? What's his name?"

"What's he do?"

"Could you believe it when Garrett came back? My word, my heart just about broke for him. If I wasn't already married and if he hadn't moved to Italy—"

"I know! How could Maura have possibly done better?"

"Charlotte, do you know who broke off the engagement? Her or Garrett?"

"_Girls!_" Charlotte cried. "Please, stop! I'm sure Maura will explain everything once she gets here. Look! There's the train now."

Emily and Anne chattered on as the train pulled slowly to a stop. "I wonder if this fellow came between them?" the latter mused.

"Possibly. Or possibly he came in after Garrett left because he felt sorry for her."

"You know, I still just can't understand. It doesn't seem like Maura, does it? How could she have possibly gone and gotten herself married so soon after Garrett left?"

"Because she was lonely?"

Charlotte interrupted their gossip when she saw Maura getting off the train with a lean man behind her. "Oh look, there she is!"

Anne turned to look at Emily. "Or because she found _that_."


	5. Welcome to the Jungle

**A/N**: Just as a reminder, as some people seem confused (although I've mentioned it twice in the text already), **Garrett is not in Boston**. He has moved to Italy with his father, Adam is dead, Adam's widow is in mourning, and Sumner no longer associates with the elite crowd. There's going to be drama enough here without all that awkwardness happening! Also, more music to read fanfic by- "The Coventry Carol" appears later in this chapter.

* * *

"So I'm guessing one of those ladies is Charlotte," Jane muttered, nodding at the three waving Hughes sisters.

"Yes, the taller one in the middle," Maura said. "Those are her sisters, Emily and Anne."

"Uh—well, you go ahead and say hello. I'll help the porter with our bags, all right?"

"All right," Maura said, giving Jane's cheek a swift kiss. "Don't be long." _Please! _She smiled at the Hughes' driver as he passed her, walking towards Jane and the porter to get their luggage. Once she was within hearing distance of her three former neighbors, Maura laughed and said, "What a welcoming committee! Hello, girls!"

"Hello, Maura!" gushed Charlotte, pulling her into an embrace. "Oh, it's so _wonderful_ to see you again! It's been so long since we'd heard from you—we worried you might not even answer my last letter at all!"

"Yes, and then to go on and say you've gotten married?" Anne gasped. Deciding to get right to it, she clutched the doctor's arm and whispered, "Oh, _Maura! _I hope you don't find this too forward of me, but he is simply gorgeous! Where on earth did you find him?"

"The frontier," Maura said, smiling as she watched Jane shake the driver's hand, laughing with him and the porter.

"Beautiful," murmured Emily.

"Girls!" Charlotte sighed. "Please, contain yourselves! You especially, Emily! How would you feel if another woman were to size up your husband like that?"

"Oh, I don't mind," Maura said lightly. She had to admit it was a bit nice having something to hold over the younger, more vivacious Hughes for once. So long as it didn't go beyond verbal complimenting, it wasn't a problem.

Emily pretended to be embarrassed. "You must think we're so indecent—but that smile, and that limber build! We don't have anything like that in Boston, do we?"

"Wait until you hear his voice," Maura said with just a bit of smugness, lifting her hand to wave. "Darling! Get on over here, will you?"

Jane excused herself from the duly-impressed driver and hurried ahead to meet up with the women. "Hello, ladies," she said, putting her arms around Maura from behind and kissing her on the cheek before moving to her side. "Hello, dearest."

She was apparently oblivious to the affect she was having on Maura's old friends, who were all but fanning themselves. Charlotte was the first to recover, and said, "Well sir, it's certainly a pleasure to finally meet you! I'm Charlotte."

Leaning forward to obligingly kiss Charlotte's hand, Jane said, "Pleasure's mine, I'm sure, Charlotte. The name's Jake Rizzoli."

"And how long have you two been married exactly?" Emily asked next.

"We exchanged vows one month and two weeks ago," Jane smoothly replied, grinning at Maura. "Under a prairie moon and the stars."

"Oh Jake, you romantic rascal, you!" Maura chuckled, tweaking Jane's nose. Turning back to the Hughes, she said, "You see? There was reason for my going out west after all. I started a practice—"

"A very successful practice," Jane couldn't help butting in.

Maura indulged her in a smile. "And I learned how… ill-suited Garrett and I were for each other. But most importantly, I met the love of my life." She kissed Jane's cheek, missing the lovesick gazes on her friends' faces. "Jake's going to take care of me in ways Garrett never could."

"Hey, you're gonna be takin' care of me, too," Jane husked. "I've got an itch only you can scratch, Dr. Isles. You are my bold, beautiful woman."

"Ooh, Jake, you're making me blush," Maura tittered.

There was only so much of this romantic babble that Charlotte could take. "Well! Dear, we went ahead and had the house cleaned for you, so let's get going, shall we?"

The carriage ride from the station to Maura's old home was just over a half an hour, and she could not get over how adorable Jane's enthusiasm was. Eventually it dawned on her that this was probably quite similar to how she had acted on her first day in the desert: Jane kept peering out the window, an open smile on her lips as she inquired after certain buildings and types of trees. Even the way people dressed and wore their hair looked unique to her. The air in Boston felt different, smelled different. This carriage was certainly the nicest one she had ever seen, let alone been inside of, and that went for the road they were traveling on as well.

"Jake, you look like a child at Christmas," Maura observed with a laugh.

Jane smiled guiltily at her. "I must seem awful foolish, huh?"

"Certainly not," Maura said, linking her arm through Jane's and resting her chin on her shoulder. "It's quite endearing, actually."

"Maura, what's it like being back?" Charlotte asked.

Maura inhaled deeply, as if wrapping herself up in the scent of Boston. "Oh, it's surreal at this point. I can't believe I'm here. Modern travel is so incredible and such a blessing, isn't it?"

"It certainly is," said Anne. Like Jane, she had also been enjoying the view their ride offered, but not in terms of the landscape. "What did you say your last name was, Jake?"

"Rizzoli," Jane said, tearing her eyes away from the scenery to face Anne.

"Is that Italian? Your English is excellent," remarked Emily.

"I'd say it's a far cry from that," Jane laughed. "But thank you kindly. I was brought up in Arizona so I feel all right in callin' myself an American. My pop was born in New York and my mother moved here from Italy when she was thirteen. What about you all? Y'all sound like you were born here!"

"Oh, our ancestors came over on the Mayflower," Emily assured her.

"Boston bred," Maura whispered to Jane through her teeth. "And Emily, how long have you been married? You were still pining after Jessie Wade when I left!"

"And the pining paid off," Emily said, showing Maura the ring on her finger. "I became a married woman just after my eighteenth birthday, four months ago."

"Congratulations!" Maura said, a sentiment which Jane echoed. "And Charlotte, how about you? How are the children?"

"Oh, just as restless as ever," Charlotte sighed, though she was smiling. "Mama was very kind to watch them for me while we came to pick you up. Eleanor seems to have a tantrum every five minutes, and Jackson won't ever stay still! I think he's picked up his uncle's proficiency for baseball, even at such a young age. I suppose so long as he never tries playing it in the house, there's no harm."

Anne leaned forward slightly. "Do you play baseball, Mr. Rizzoli?"

"Please, just call me Jake," Jane said. "Mr. Rizzoli was my father." It occurred to her after she said this that maybe it would be impolite for a woman to address a man so informally in Boston, but when she glanced at Maura for approval, Maura gave her a reassuring nod. "Uh… Mr. Fairfield introduced us to the game when he lived in town. My brothers both got pretty good at it, but I cared more for watchin' it than playin' it myself most of the time. Say, speakin' of athletics, that reminds me," Jane said, poking Maura's arm. "You were gonna give me an archery lesson."

"Can't you use a bow and arrow?" asked Emily. "Or do you use more sophisticated weaponry in your scuffles with savages?"

"You mean a firearm?" Jane asked, patting the holster on her hip. "Yeah, I suppose that'd be my weapon of choice. But I wouldn't never use it against an Indian unless he had it comin' to him."

"They don't all have it coming?"

"No ma'am, they don't," Jane said patiently. "They're right useful traders, actually. If we tried wagin' war on 'em anymore than we already have, we'd probably lose more than we'd gain! Lookit this here," she said, taking Maura's hand. "I know this ring might not look like so much to ladies like yourselves, but it was crafted by Indian hands and I don't think a white man could do no better."

"It's not exactly elegant," Emily said. "But…"

"It's nice," Charlotte said warmly. "I'll bet it's one of a kind!"

"Just like the woman wearin' it," Jane agreed, shooting Maura a smile which was quickly returned.

A few minutes later, they arrived at Maura's old street. She unconsciously took Jane's hand and squeezed it nervously, holding her breath. When they stepped out of the carriage, she found herself flooded with memories: the Union veterans sitting on the lawn playing cards; her father calling to her from that porch; running down this street in the rain and not caring who saw. There was the tree Garrett had once climbed and fallen out of, breaking a limb. There was Mrs. Hughes' hedge, kept just as high as usual. There were those same bird calls going out, a sound she had grown up with and completely forgotten out west.

"Maura, you all right?" Jane asked gently.

Maura hadn't even realized that she was holding one hand to her heart, the other clasped in Jane's grip. "Oh yes, I'm fine. I just didn't expect …I mean, I've only been gone just under a year. But there are so many memories here, I didn't—I didn't think they'd all come back to me at once."

"Lotta stories here, huh?" Jane guessed, and Maura nodded.

"Well, we'll let her tell you some of them," Charlotte said, gesturing for her sisters to go towards their parents' house, as the driver started carrying Jane and Maura's luggage to the Isles home. "Now the two of you are not to scrounging for dinner yourselves tonight, understood? My mother asked to host a dinner for you tonight, at half past five o'clock. Don't be late!"

"Wouldn't dream of it!" Maura laughed. "Thank you—we'll see you then."

"So is Charlotte married?" Jane asked as the young woman walked away.

"Yes."

"To another man named Hughes?"

"Oh no, she just signs 'Hughes' in her letters." With a small laugh, Maura hooked her arm through Jane's and led her up the walkway to the house. "She said she spent so long in school perfecting her signature that she hated to have to change it when she got married, even if that _was _six years ago! Ah, heaven bless her. I _do _wish she had married better."

"What d'you mean?"

"Well, she married Rory Graham. Rory's the type of man who builds himself up by tearing others down. He takes credit where he doesn't deserve it, and blames his faults on others. Charlotte's told me he's running his own business now, and I imagine he's working his men to death. I think she could have done much better, but…"

Jane stopped at the porch to pick up a trunk and a bag. "Why did she marry him?"

Maura shrugged, taking one of her smaller bags. "Security."

They opened the front door just enough to get their luggage inside, and didn't bother moving it into the bedroom just yet. Jane was taking her cues from Maura, who was standing at the door, staring. Everything looked just as she remembered. A modest chandelier hung from the ceiling of the small foyer, from where one could go up the staircase on the left or down the hall straight ahead. The walls were still adorned with the same silhouettes.

Jane removed her gloves and stuck them into her back pocket, taking one of Maura's hands. "The house is beautiful," she said, and she meant it. In all her travels, she had never been inside such a tastefully decorated, nicely-kept home.

The swelling in her heart was the only thing that could properly convey how Maura felt about the house, but she had to use words in an effort to communicate it to Jane. "It's lovely, isn't it?" she agreed, starting to slowly walk down the hall. She stopped in front of a long mirror towards the end, turning Jane so they could both look into it. Maura smiled ruefully, leaning her head on Jane's shoulder.

"How you holdin' up?" Jane whispered, gripping Maura's hand a little tighter.

"All right, I think," Maura said quietly, and her smile became a little less sad. "I don't think I could have made this trip alone, Jane. Thank you _so _much for being with me."

Jane nuzzled her cheek against the top of Maura's head. "Ain't nowhere I'd rather be."

"You seem to have made quite an impression on the girls," Maura said, resuming their walk down the hallway. "Anne in particular seemed rather taken with you. Or didn't you notice?"

"Eh…I noticed, I guess," Jane said bashfully with an embarrassed chuckle. "She's just a kid though, right?"

"Not really. She and Emily are twins, so she's eighteen. A marriageable age."

"Ah, but I'm already married. She ain't got a prayer."

"How sad for her," Maura laughed. "I guess I win for once."

"For once?"

"Oh, you know how girls are," Maura sighed. When Jane gave her a puzzled look, she added, "Or maybe you don't. It's not just girls, but all young people, I suppose. Human nature. We were all fairly educated, but many people my age liked to lord things over me—their families devoid of scandal, the opulence of their homes, their ability to detect sarcasm …but now I have something none of them ever will."

"A pet tortoise?"

"A Jane Rizzoli," Maura chuckled.

They had entered the sitting room, and for a moment, Maura had half-expected to see her father sitting on his old crimson armchair with a paper in his hands and a pipe between his lips. The lack of his presence made the room feel bigger and emptier than it actually was, probably also aided by the large windows bringing in so much unrelenting natural light. The walls were light gray in color, a choice that had never seemed particularly depressing to Maura until now. In an effort to cheer her up, Jane nodded at the grand piano and harp behind the room's large blue sofa.

"You play?" she asked.

"Yes," Maura said, feeling as though her voice echoed through the room as she walked towards the instruments. "I can't imagine how out of tune they'd sound if I tried to play one…"

"I wouldn't probably know the difference," Jane said.

Maura laughed sourly. "Oh, yes you would." But then she caught sight of a small note left on top of the piano, dated two days ago: _"I hope you don't mind, but we took the liberty of tuning these in case you wanted to use them when you got back. Our Sunday afternoons haven't quite been the same without your lovely concerts!" _Showing the note to Jane, Maura said, "Apparently Mrs. Hughes has had these tuned."

"Great! So you can play somethin'!" Jane said, sitting herself down on the piano bench and nodding at the harp. "Will you play on the—on that one?"

"The harp?"

"Yeah, I ain't ever heard one before," Jane said eagerly. "I only ever seen 'em in pictures of angels. I bet they sound even prettier than they look!"

"Depends on who's playing," Maura snorted, taking a seat behind the harp. She rose her fingers to the strings, but her mind was a complete blank. "I… I can't remember anything," she said after a long silence. Dimly she knew there was sheet music somewhere, in one of the chest of drawers in the room, but she didn't feel like searching for something. Closing her eyes, Maura tried to visualize herself sitting here two or three years ago, the last time she had played. The piano had always come more easily to her, but it was always rewarding to master a song on the harp… "I can only think of a hymn—or, a Christmas song."

"Which?"

"The Coventry Carol. Do you know it?" She figured she oughtn't be surprised when Jane shook her head. "Well, I'll most likely do a terrible job, but I'll do my best."

After another few moments' contemplation, Maura tremblingly brought her fingers to back to the harp. She tried a few of the strings, testing them to make sure they sounded decent (which they did). With a glance at Jane, Maura cleared her throat and hesitantly started the carol—haltingly at first, then with increasing confidence. With each passing note, Jane had to fight to keep her eyes open. It was too tempting to close them and pretend just for a moment that she was in heaven. But she could maintain that illusion just as easily by looking, by seeing Maura, in all her ethereal beauty, play this melancholy tune on such an angelic-sounding instrument.

About a minute into the song, Maura hit a sour note and immediately dropped her hands. "Ah, that was wrong."

"Please." Maura turned swiftly to look at Jane when she heard tears in the woman's voice, and wasn't sure if she ought to be moved or heartbroken when she saw that Jane had indeed started to cry. "Please, Maura, don't stop. It's so beautiful."

Maura nodded and tried again, and this time got through two verses before stopping. It was repetitive, and she thought it gave Jane enough of an idea of how it sounded. When she was finished, she stood up, and found herself quickly pulled into one of Jane's strong embraces. Maura nearly collapsed into it, thinking she was only fully appreciating Jane's strength for the first time. The weight of her emotions at being back here in her father's house were heavier and more overwhelming than she had been expecting, and Jane's arms felt like the most secure of safeguards. Maura felt utterly drained, and even when she pressed herself fully into the hug, Jane did not waver. She only tightened her grip, kissing the top of Maura's head.

"I'm sorry," Maura said thickly.

"Don't you dare apologize," Jane whispered.

"I'm not sad we came; and I do think I'm all right, it's… this is just…"

Jane pulled back enough to wipe away some of Maura's tears. "It's a lot, huh?" she guessed, and Maura nodded. She kissed Maura's forehead and wrapped her up in another embrace, rubbing her back soothingly. "It's okay, Maura. S'okay."

Maura thanked her without really even knowing what for. Probably for too many things to name. She sniffed and pulled back from Jane. "I feel a bit foolish."

Offering Maura her handkerchief, Jane said, "Don't. Please. You got every right to be feelin' emotional right now. Do ya still want to go to the Hughes for dinner? 'Cause I could go over and make excuses for ya—tell 'em you're tired from the trip."

"No, no, I want to go," Maura said, dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief. "I'm just being silly, that's all. I'll be fine in a couple of hours." She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to calm herself down. It worked. "You're right, though, I _am _tired."

"You wanna lie down before we go?"

"Yes, I think I would like that. Do you want to join me?"

Jane shrugged. "I ain't really tired, but I'll lie down with ya if you want."

"No, that's all right," Maura said softly, absently stroking Jane's arm. "Just—you won't go exploring without me, will you?"

"'Course not," Jane said with a grin. "Where'd be the fun in that? I'll try'n get a little further in _Jane Eyre_."

She had said it in hopes of cheering up Maura a bit, and certainly succeeded in that vein. Maura chatted about the book incessantly as Jane heaved their trunks up the stairs to Maura's room. Occasionally Jane missed what Maura was saying because she got hung up looking at the pictures on the walls, or peeked into other rooms, looking forward to hearing more about them and about the house. By the time they reached the bedroom, Maura was sufficiently cheered up. She got _Jane Eyre _from her bag and handed it to her own Jane, who took it with a swift kiss to the cheek.

Jane had correctly sensed that before she fell asleep, Maura might want a moment alone in her old room. Again, Maura was struck with the feeling that she had never left (a credit she was sure was due to the impeccable cleaning job by the Hughes). Blue and white designs covered the walls and bedspreads, giving one the sensation of being inside a China tea set. Maura had made this aesthetic request when she was very young—once, she had heard her mother taste a tea so delicious she said she wished she could drown in it, and Maura had loved the idea. A few of her own attempts at painting adorned the walls, and various keepsakes remained on her desk exactly where she had left them: there was the locket which contained her father's silhouette, so she could remember him when she was in Europe; the candlesticks she had admired in New York and he had bought for her; the diary she had finished just after Garrett had moved to Arizona …all things which were very important to her, but that she hadn't wanted to bring with her to Hollow Creek. Too many memories were too fresh.

She undressed and when she was down to her camisole and pantalets, took out the box of French lingerie. Maura had finally given herself the opportunity to study the garments a few days before the trip to Boston, familiarizing herself with them. At first she had worried it might feel strange to wear them in the house she'd grown up in, but there was no trepidation now. _After all… Jane deserves something nice for coming all the way here with me… and for what she'll have to suffer through with Rory tonight_…

Initially Jane had planned on reading in the sitting room, but the temptation to go outside was too great. She wouldn't be exploring; she'd just be … going outside. Maura knew this about her: if she was ever indoors for long a period of time, Jane got a little stir-crazy. Walking around for a while at each train stop hadn't quite been enough to compensate for the hours at a time spent inside their tiny compartment, and Jane had hardly had a chance to catch her breath at the Boston station before the five of them crammed into the Hughes' carriage. She really needed to be outside right now.

It was difficult to concentrate on _Jane Eyre _with so much going on around her. For a while, Jane just closed her eyes and listened to what nature sounded like in Boston. Everything was different—even the breeze felt different somehow. None of it in a bad way, just a new way. Jane picked up one of the porch chairs and took it into the backyard, settling into it with her book.

She had no idea how much time had passed when she felt two arms wrap around her from behind. The book went flying out of her hands as Jane wrenched herself out of the loose grip and twisted to the ground, pulling out her gun. Her heart had nearly stopped until she realized she was looking at Maura, who had her hands up in surrender and was wearing an expression that somehow mixed light amusement with gentle concern.

"Jesus, Maura," Jane sighed, getting to her feet and holstering her weapon. "Don't ever sneak up on me like that."

"I'm sorry," Maura said, walking hesitatingly towards her. "I didn't mean to scare you, I was just… saying hello."

"Hello," Jane said with a tired grin, reaching out one arm and pulling Maura in for a kiss. "Sorry, I probably overreacted—"

"I should've thought—"

"Don't, Maura, it's all right. Hey, you changed!"

"Well yes, it's nearly half past."

"What? Already?"

"Yes," Maura said, the corners of her mouth twitching into a smile. "Not much progress in _Jane Eyre_, Jane Rizzoli?"

"Uh…couple pages," Jane said guiltily. "Sorry, Maura, I know I promised not to explore nothin', but I just had to come outside. I… I missed nature."

"I know, dear, it's all right."

"D'you want I should change, too?"

Before Maura could get around to answering the question, they heard a shrill cry from the yard next door. Maura instantly led the way to the door in the fence which separated their yard from the Hughes', and they hurried through it to get behind the neighbors' house. Their anxiousness was alleviated somewhat when they saw Charlotte and her husband Rory with their son, who was the only one crying. He was upset, but judging by his parents' reactions, there was nothing dire going on here.

Charlotte looked up at the sound of Jane yet again holstering her gun. "Oh, hello!" she said, getting to her feet. She had been crouched down to her son's level, trying to calm her down while her husband had looked on. "Sorry, we've had a bit of a…"

"Jackson's hit a ball into those trees," Rory explained, nodding at the small wooded area behind the house. There was a baseball bat loosely in the boy's grip. "I've told him he isn't to go running in there just before dinner. He'll get dirty."

"N-no I won't!" Jackson sobbed. "I just want my ball, Papa!"

"You should learn to take better care of your things," Rory said. "Now go wash up."

"Oh, let him meet Jake first," Charlotte said. "Jackson, this is Maura's husband."

Taking a leaf out of Charlotte's book, Jane crouched down so she was close to Jackson's height. "How are ya, son?" she asked, extending a hand.

Jackson shook her hand, embarrassed to be wiping away tears with the other. "Are you a real cowboy?" he sniffed, looking at the gun at her hip.

"Well, son, I'm what they call a deputy," Jane said, brushing her hand over the weapon. "And I don't ever use this unless I have to."

"Have you ever had to?" he asked, wide-eyed.

"Jackson, what a question!" Charlotte chided him.

"I was just asking!"

"Your mother's right," Jane said with a smile. "Those ain't stories for a boy's ears."

"My Papa's got a gun," Jackson said, looking up at Rory. "But he keeps it in his study and only uses it go hunting."

"I thought I told you to get inside and wash up," Rory said gravely.

"But Papa, my ball…"

Jane stood back up and looked at Maura. "Ya mind?" she asked, nodding towards the trees. "I bet I could find it real easy."

"Yeah?" Jackson asked eagerly.

"Do y'all mind? I'd just be a minute," Jane said, looking to Charlotte for permission.

Ignoring the rather annoyed look she was receiving from her husband, Charlotte said, "Please, go ahead! If it would make Jackson feel better."

"Oh, it would!" the boy quickly said, taking Jane's hand and running towards the trees. Maura and Charlotte followed, with Rory begrudgingly bringing up the rear. He was going on about what a waste of time this was right about when his son pointed up at one of the trees and said, "There it is! There's my ball!"

Jane whistled. "Boy, how'd you get it up there? You must got one hell of an arm! Oh, excuse me," she quickly said, grinning sheepishly at Jackson's parents as the boy giggled.

"Well now you've found it, how do you propose getting it?" Rory asked.

"Easy." Without a second thought, Jane clambered up onto a large rock by the tree. Jackson tried to follow, but this was where Charlotte drew the line—she grabbed him by the belt and pulled him back down, keeping him firmly on the ground. The three Bostonians looked on in awe as Jane lithely scaled the cragged surface, reaching the top in no time. "Yeah, I think I could reach that," she said, looking up at the canopy of branches the ball had fallen into. "Oh, hey!"

"Find something else?" Maura asked.

"Yup. I woke up an owl that's been sittin' here."

Maura and the Grahams could see it now, too. It had turned large, yellow eyes on Jane, staring her down. The ball was by his feet, and when Jane reached for it, the bird ruffled its feathers. Jackson held his breath in anticipation, and Rory wryly suggested shooting it. Jane patiently held out her hand, feeling confident that the bird wouldn't bite. Soon the ball was in her grasp, and the owl took a few steps down the branch towards her. Forgetting for a moment that people were waiting for her, Jane took the opportunity to stroke the owl's head a bit. His lamp-like eyes closed lazily and he nipped affectionately at her finger before Jane remembered she was supposed to be elsewhere.

Getting down the rock was a little more difficult than scaling it had been, and Jane just wound up sliding down it. She managed to land on her feet, not caring about how dirty the ride had gotten her, because Jackson was clapping in delighted appreciation.

"There ya go," she said, tossing the ball to him. "Maybe be a bit more careful next time where ya hit that thing."

"Yes, sir!" Jackson said fervently. "And I know, I know," he said, looking at his father. "It's time to wash up. Come on, Jake! Let's wash up together!"

He took Jane's hand and ran back towards the house with her, Maura laughing and not far behind.

Rory and Charlotte stood in the clearing for a few moments before Rory finally said, "So that's Maura's husband."

"Yes."

He slowly started towards the house. "She and Fairfield called it off… and she marries a hick deputy who carries a gun around with him everywhere."

"Oh, stop," Charlotte murmured.

"No, he's charming!" Rory said sarcastically. "Do you think her father would have approved of this? That man's an uncouth maniac, with probably no real standing in genteel society! Running into the woods and touching wild animals right before a meal, cussing in front of our boy—I had hoped the west would produce citizens a little more civilized than _that! _We should probably take extra care to make sure he knows to use the utensils at your parents' table." He shook his head, not noticing the great effort it was taking his wife to hold her tongue. "How could Maura Isles have married someone like that?"

Charlotte couldn't contain herself anymore. "If you are confused about what might have drawn Maura to Jake Rizzoli," she said quietly through her teeth, "you clearly didn't see the way he looked at her."

* * *

**A/N**: If you read this chapter, please review and let me know what you liked! Advice is of course always appreciated, too. Everything helps! :) Oh, and reminder- Rory Graham was Dana Fairbanks' douchey husband in Jane's high school reunion episode!


	6. What Makes a Man

**A/N**: So yeah, Rory's a douche and will get his comeuppance eventually. And jealous-Maura will rear her fearsome head. Both are sort of touched on here, but won't really come up until later. Also, Emily's husband Jesse is the killer from the baseball episode, but not a killer in this story lol. I just borrowed the name and the face. An Edith Wharton quote is in here somewhere.

* * *

"I hope I didn't embarrass ya back there, Maura."

"Quite the opposite, in fact. I'm very proud of you."

Jane grinned as she dried off her hands. "Yeah?"

"Of course," Maura said, brushing some dirt off of Jane's dinner jacket. "You remember what that old gentleman told us on the train, didn't you? A man who can't call himself a family man isn't much of a man, is he? It looked to me like Jackson admired you quite a bit more than he did his father."

"Well…maybe Mr. Graham's just havin' a bad day," Jane said uncomfortably.

"Jane, you forget. I've known him my whole life."

"So he's usually like that?"

"He's usually worse."

The two of them had waited to have this conversation until Jackson had left them alone in the washroom. Jane found herself profoundly grateful for Maura's patience and understanding, as well as for the fact that she seemed unable to do wrong in Jackson's eyes. She hoped that if Rory and the others were condescending to her, at least she still might have a friend in the boy.

What she did not tell Maura was how much this whole dinner suddenly felt like meeting the family. None of them were of course related to Maura—and hell, Jane had already met her mother and done fairly well—but there was still that heavy sense of expectation, of scrutiny. As they had all known Garrett, they would all no doubt be comparing Jake Rizzoli to him, and Jane couldn't help feeling like the outcome was not going to be in her favor. This was only a little a little more upsetting than the realization that Jackson and his sister would be eating in another room, where they wouldn't be able to pester the adults through dinner. _There goes my one fan!_

Maura couldn't help finding it a little endearing that Jane, who had faced actual death more than once with a smirk and a rowdy yell, was fidgeting nervously now. "Please, don't be worried," Maura whispered, taking Jane's newly-cleaned face in her hands. "You'll be fine."

"I…I just don't wanna make you look bad," Jane stammered.

"Darling, trust me. You'll be fine. We'll both be fine. And no matter what happens tonight, just remember: in a short while, we'll be back in Hollow Creek, and never seeing any of these people again. Don't let anyone make you feel inferior, because you're _not. _You know that, don't you? Where's the old Rizzoli confidence?"

Jane took a deep breath, pointing two fingers at her eyes and then at Maura's. "It's right here," she said, taking Maura's hand. "I've got you. I can do this."

When they finally arrived in the sitting room, it was to be greeted by a very enthusiastic Mrs. Hughes, who couldn't have looked more delighted to have Maura Isles back in her home. She also appeared quite delighted to meet Maura's spouse. Unfortunately, the same could not be said of Mr. Hughes, who could hardly bring himself to smile at Jane when he shook her hand. Jane quickly got over this when she was introduced to Emily's husband Jesse, a short but stocky fellow who seemed to have a rather happy demeanor. Rory also got the chance to properly introduce himself, which he did at great and boring length.

Dinner was announced shortly thereafter, and Jane took her cue from the other men in the room by taking her wife's arm and joining the short procession (Anne brought up the rear, alone).

"Don't let Mr. Hughes get to you," Maura whispered into Jane's ear. "He was very fond of Garrett and thought we were a good match."

"Don't see how it would've been any of his business," Jane grumbled.

"This is Boston. Everything is everyone's business," Maura remarked.

Everything was everyone's business in a small town like Hollow Creek, too, but Jane quickly learned Maura had not intended it in the same way. Jane didn't realize just how out of her league she felt until she saw the dinner table, where each setting looked intricate enough to have helped a person get through ten meals. She stared nervously down at the rows of flatware in front of her as she absently pulled Maura's chair out for her before sitting down herself. It dawned on Maura just then that she probably ought to have prepped Jane before their trip about Boston elite dining etiquette, but she trusted that Jane would be intelligent and intuitive enough to follow along.

"So, Mr. Rizzoli!" said Mrs. Hughes as their first course began. She was sitting between her husband and her youngest daughter, across the table from Jane and Maura. "Charlotte tells us you are of Italian descent, born and raised here in America."

It hadn't been a question. Was she supposed to respond? "Uh—yes, ma'am."

Mrs. Hughes tittered in delight. "Ah! Did your parents ever teach you their native tongue?"

"Yes ma'am, they did."

"Would you favor us with some?"

"Oh, uh, I…"

Anne leaned forward a little. "Please, Jake? Italian is such a beautiful language, and we so rarely get to hear it around here."

"We all learned French," Emily said.

Jane glanced at Maura, who was smiling warily at her. _What on earth does that look mean?_

"Go on, tell us in Italian what you think about Boston," Mrs. Hughes encouraged her. "Have you ever been to the east before?"

"Uh, no, I—I, uh…" Jane shook her head, knowing she had to get something out before she made herself seem even more inept and moronic than she already appeared. "_Sono mai stato più a est Illinois. Il paesaggio di Boston è molto bella, quasi bella come Maura. Sono contento di essere qui perché è felice di essere qui._" She finished this off by taking a large gulp of her drink, thankful only for the comforting squeeze her hand got from Maura under the table.

"Was 'Illinois' in there somewhere?" Jesse asked.

"Yes," Jane coughed, setting her glass back down. "I said um, I said I'd never been farther east than Illinois, and that I think the landscape in Boston is really beautiful—almost as beautiful as Maura. And that I'm happy to be here because she's happy to be here."

Mrs. Hughes smiled at them both. "Well, isn't he the charmer?" she laughed, raising her eyebrows at Maura. "And you know, speaking of Illinois, the Davises told us all about the art gallery they saw in Chicago—the one your mother had some works in. They said they saw you there with a friend from Arizona?"

"Oh! Oh, yes!" Maura said, forcing a smile and successfully hiding her intense fear at this recollection. How could she have failed to remember that Jane had previously met some old family friends from Boston? What if they ran into them in town? "Er—how are the Davises doing these days?"

"They're in Italy," Mrs. Hughes chuckled. "Apparently your friend took the time to put Paul and his meager Italian in their place, and Mrs. Davis suggested a family trip back to improve his take on the language, and get Loretta started as well. Now I'm curious, Mr. Rizzoli—"

"He prefers to go by Jake," Anne cut in.

Mrs. Hughes narrowed her eyes at her daughter, then glanced at Jane, who hesitantly nodded her approval. "Jake, then. What took you to Illinois?"

"Business." Well, that was sort of true, at least. She'd been trying to find Hoyt there before meeting up with Maura.

Rory looked dubious. "Business? Didn't you say you were a deputy?"

"Yeah."

"And that's law enforcement, yes?"

"Yea—yes."

"So what was a deputy from Arizona doing all the way in Illinois on business?" Rory asked, not without merit.

No matter how legitimate a question it was, Maura did not appreciate Rory's tone. He could have made the query sound innocently curious, but his voice was filled with his typical condescending skepticism. "Jake is actually quite renowned in our part of the country," she said. "He's been asked to take on several cases and criminals outside our area." Maura felt secure in saying this because it was true, even if Jane's (legitimate) job had certainly never taken her all the way to Illinois.

Everyone, even Mr. Hughes, looked impressed at this. Well, everyone but Rory: "And just out of curiosity, _Jake_, what is it that makes your assistance so valuable?"

Again Maura cut in before Jane could respond: "He is uniquely qualified for his job, and better than anyone else at it. And, he is an _excellent_ marksman. Dear, do you remember the first time we met?"

Jane smiled at Maura's determination to be cheerful. "You remember that?" she asked softly.

"Of course," Maura said, returning the grin. Addressing the rest of the table, she said, "We were both traveling in the same carriage, returning into town from the station in Mesa—it was actually my first day there! And I was so excited at the prospect of meeting a real westerner, which was just what Jake turned out to be. His partner was sitting on top of the carriage, and Jake asked him to throw off a coin and he'd hit it with a bullet. And he did! I was very impressed—and a bit intimidated, I admit."

"So you two first met while you were en route to meet your fiancé?" Rory clarified. Charlotte cleared her throat significantly at her husband's intimation, but he ignored her.

"Yes, that is correct," she said stoically.

Rory knew that pushing any further would be crossing the line of propriety, so he tried his best to search for visual clues to confirm his theory. Maura looked determinedly guiltless (which she was, as that first day had kindled nothing more than the beginning of a curious friendship), but Jane looked a little anxious.

"So, a deputy!" Anne said, trying to break the awkward silence that had settled briefly over the table. "That must be very exciting, Jake, especially from the way Maura has described your abilities. Do you catch a lot of criminals?"

"Anne, that really is not appropriate dinner conversation," her father said shortly.

But Emily's husband Jesse (who Jane sensed had married up) chimed in, "Well I think it's a fine thing for a man to take charge when he can. Never let your guard down, eh? I saw the gun on your hip. I think maybe you ought to try lending a hand to the police here in Boston while you're around. They could probably use your help."

Maura could practically see the deputy wheels in Jane's head churning. "Why, what's been goin' on?"

"Well, we know you've got a fair few legends yourself out in the West. Like _Jesse _James," he laughed, gesturing to himself, and then to Jane when he said, "Jake Wyatt. Billy the Kid, Wyatt Earp. They like to make themselves famous through their exploits."

"Jesse," Mr. Hughes sighed.

Not having heard him, Jesse went on: "Well, we got our own types here in the East, just not quite as… flashy, you might say. No photographs and only a few illustrations to give people an idea of what they might look like, which makes them hard to find and get rid of. We could use the help of a renowned fellow like you, Jake—Patrick Doyle's back in Boston."

"_Jesse_."

Mr. Hughes' voice was louder and sharper than it had been before, effectively getting Jesse to drop the subject. Patrick Doyle was completely foreign to Jane, but everyone else at the table seemed to have cringed or flinched in some way at the mention of his name, including Maura. Jane made a mental note to ask her about him later, because now was clearly not the time.

"I think that's enough of about my line of work," Jane laughed nervously. "I was hopin' maybe y'all could tell me a bit about Maura, and what she was like as a kid."

"Oh, she's always been as refined and intelligent as she is now," said Mrs. Hughes.

"A bit odd, though, if memory serves," added Emily, somehow managing to make the comment sound more observational than rude.

"Well I reckon I'm a bit odd, too, so I s'pose we was made for each other," Jane said.

"Not odd in a bad way," Charlotte said. "I am afraid that many of us didn't know _what _to make of her, did we? But that's what was always interesting about Maura. You never could quite guess what she would say or do next—but she always was a lady," she clarified, wanting to make that point perfectly clear to Jane. "Maura, do you remember Mrs. Bannister?"

"Wasn't she the one who—"

"No."

"Oh, you mean the woman who—"

"Yes!" Smiling at Jane, Charlotte explained, "Mrs. Bannister was a widow, poor dear, and we all sort of assumed her brains got addled a bit after her husband died. She used to just dance in middle of Town Square after church on Sundays, even though there was never any music. Very strange. But Maura finally ran out to dance with her once so she wouldn't feel so alone."

"That _was _a bit strange, wasn't it?" Emily said, again sounding merely observational.

"It don't surprise me, though," Jane chuckled. "Maura ain't ever been one to reject a sorry soul. She makes it her mission to lend a hand to any human bein' she thinks could use a lift."

"They don't even have to be human," said Mrs. Hughes. "I don't think I shall ever forget opening my door one morning to see Maura, dressed in her Sunday finest, handing me an invitation to a caterpillar's funeral!"

Everyone had a good-natured laugh at that, and Maura was blushing. "I was five," she said to Jane.

"Really? I thought you'd say this happened just before you moved West," Jane teased her.

"If I recall, I'm the only person from this family who cared enough to show up for that funeral," Charlotte said. "And I remember Maura was so distraught that her father couldn't save that caterpillar! Isn't that what started your interest in medicine, Maura?"

"Well, my father's work had always fascinated me," Maura said. "And he believed that it would be beneficial for me to learn how to heal others, in preparation to perhaps become a nurse, or at least be able to take care of my own children some day in case they ever got injured. I think it goes right alongside the notion of nurturing, and I've grateful to have learned the practice."

"She's mighty famous in her own right," Jane said proudly. "We got people from all around askin' for help or advice from Dr. Isles!"

As Jane went on about Maura's many achievements, Charlotte felt the sin of envy burning within her. The few times Rory had ever boasted about her accomplishments—her peerless baking, her talent for portraiture, her ability to play the piano by ear—he somehow managed to make it sound as if her talents were a result of _his_ hard work. A compliment for her was a compliment to him, as though anything she produced was akin to the products put out by one of the factories he owned: he himself was not involved in the creative process, but he happily took the credit when it was given. He was proud, not proud of her.

She could tell the opposite was true of Jake and Maura. It was hard to pinpoint exactly how she knew this, but there was just something about Jake's reverent tone and eager countenance that clearly expressed the respect and admiration he had for his wife. Come to think of it, not even Garrett had looked at Maura this way. Charlotte believed whole-heartedly that he had loved her, but the look in his eyes when he regarded Maura always seemed to have a trace of amusement in it, sometimes of the condescending variety.

If anyone had ever made a snide comment about Charlotte, Rory would angrily defy it or denounce the libelous person—not to defend Charlotte's pride, but his own. Any perceived blemish on her character was a poor reflection on his own judgment, as he had chosen to marry her, and he would not stand for that. It was clear by the way Jake was talking that he wanted everyone at the table to know of Maura's achievements because he genuinely wanted her to be esteemed, not regarded as strange, in their eyes.

Emily, of course, could always be counted upon to bring the conversation back to things that really mattered, "Maura, I see your innate sense fashion has remained! You always dressed so divinely, and we always worshipped you for it."

This seemed like strong language, prompting Jane to ask, "Is fashion such a serious consideration in Boston?"

"Among those who have nothing more to consider," Maura whispered back, softly enough so that only Jane could hear her.

That seemed to Jane like something to really think about. And another new social custom came upon her when after dinner, the men and women parted ways for indiscernible reasons; men to the lounge, women to the sitting room. The only thing which kept Jane from being too distraught at the separation from Maura was the promise of brandy and cigars. After getting a glass for everyone, Mr. Hughes settled himself in the largest chair of the room, leaving Rory and Jesse to settle on far ends of the same couch. Jane hovered between them for a moment before deciding to sit on the only other available piece of furniture in the room, a small chair which was regrettably by Rory's side of the sofa.

Apparently Jesse and Emily were expecting their first child, which Jane had suspected upon seeing Emily's figure (but hadn't wanted to assume). "Gosh, I wish Maura could tell us if it was gonna be a boy or a little girl," Jesse said, trying to bring Jane into the conversation.

"Well she's mighty smart, but I don't know that she's _that _good!" Jane laughed, tipping her near-empty glass at Jesse.

"Speaking of smart," said Mr. Hughes, "If it is in fact a boy, where do you plan on sending him to school?"

"My father would prefer Yale, but…" Seeing the hard looks on the face of his Boston-born father-in-law and brother-in-law, Jesse hastened to add, "Harvard is of course the superior school!"

Rory nodded in approval, then turned to Jane, whose glass was now empty. She hadn't realized how much the other men were pacing themselves with their brandy, but tried not to look worried about it. Handing her a cigar, Rory explained, "Mr. Hughes and I are both Harvard alums. How about you, Jake? What are your views on education?"

"W-well, I…I didn't never get much of it myself," Jane said. "I reckon your wives are a sight smarter than me in a lot of regards!"

"That would explain why you allowed yours to speak so much for you at dinner," Rory muttered, fumbling for a match to light his own cigar.

He turned his head at the sound of Jane striking a match. "Maybe you oughtta try lettin' Charlotte speak up once in a while. You might find she has somethin' interesting to say."

Looking unfazed, Rory turned to his father-in-law. "You think so, Mr. Hughes?"

Mr. Hughes appeared rather bored. "Charlotte is not unintelligent, but I wouldn't venture to say she's a thrilling conversationalist."

Maura would have disagreed heartily on this point. Charlotte had always been the only girl in town who could carry on a halfway interesting conversation with her, which was still proving to be true now. Her curiosity in Maura's husband at least seemed genuine when she asked, "How much formal schooling has Jake had?"

"Oh, not much, I'm afraid," Maura said. "He… his parents died when he was very young—" This elicited sympathetic gasps from the other women in the room. "And he has two younger brothers who needed to be taken care of. So Jake very unselfishly brought a stop to his education to focus on providing for them."

"Oh, how _tragic_," Mrs. Hughes sighed.

"Yes, yes it's quite sad," Maura agreed. "But Jake's never really let it stop him, his lack of education. And what's more, I've been helping him with his reading and writing, and he has improved greatly in both regards! What he otherwise lacks in book smarts, he more than makes up for in other ways."

It wasn't until she'd said it that she realized the possibly insinuations of this sentence. "You mean a more… sensual intelligence?" Anne guessed, not entirely innocently.

"Anne!" hissed Charlotte and Mrs. Hughes in unison. The older woman continued, "Did I raise you to be so forward when speaking about another woman's husband?"

"No, Mama," Anne sullenly replied.

Emily picked it up: "But speaking of inappropriate conversation—I've got about three months on you, Maura, when it comes to marriage, and the stork is en route to our door. Are you and Mr. Rizzoli expecting such a visitor any time in the near future?"

Even Mrs. Hughes, despite herself, wanted to hear the answer to this. Maura tried her best not to fumble the response: "We have discussed children, yes. But going from the intimate knowledge I have of Jake and myself, I've begun handing myself over to the fact that certain factors I'd really rather not discuss will preclude us from ever having children of our own."

She was able to get through this very fast and with a stiff upper lip until Charlotte moved closer to wrap her in a solicitous embrace, and Maura burst into tears. "My dear, I'm so sorry!" Charlotte gushed, offering Maura a handkerchief. Addressing her mother and sisters, she said, "You ought to have seen Jake with Jackson—a complete natural."

"Well, we don't want to get into the sordid details," Mrs. Hughes said, wanting to protect what little privacy Maura had left. "But you ought to keep orphans in your mind, dear."

Maura nodded, pulling herself away slightly from Charlotte. "I know, and I apologize for weeping on you so suddenly. It's just …well, it's been a difficult thing to reconcile. But I'm also beginning to realize perhaps I didn't prepare myself emotionally enough for this trip. It's been exhausting already, and I've only—"

"Oh, how silly of us!" Mrs. Hughes gasped. "We ought to have known you'd be tired after your long journey! You and Jake really should have left after dinner."

"Don't be ridiculous, Mrs. Hughes," Maura said, even as the woman rang for their butler to go collect Mr. Rizzoli. "We're fine."

"That's sweet of you, dear, but very unconvincing. You need to rest up! This will be a busy trip for you. I imagine that in addition to packing up the rest of your house, you'll want to give Jake a proper tour of Boston."

"We would be happy to help you in that regard, if necessary," Anne said.

Before Maura could respond, Jane arrived in the sitting room. Maura didn't have the chance to so much as stand up before Jane saw her red eyes and quickly walked over, kneeling in front of her on the couch. "Sweetheart, you all right?" she asked, taking one of Maura's hands between her own.

"Yes dear, I'm fine, I just—"

"She's just tired from the long trip," Mrs. Hughes said. "You ought to get her home, Jake."

"Yes ma'am," Jane said, standing up and offering Maura her hand. "You want I should carry ya?"

Maura laughed softly, wiping away her last tear. "To get next door? I think I'll be able to make it, darling, but thank you."

"All right, you just let me know," Jane said, giving her a small encouraging smile. As the other women in the room stood up, Jane bowed to each of them in turn. "Mrs. Hughes, Miss Charlotte, Emily, Anne—it's been a pleasure. I thank you very much for your kindness and hospitality."

"And we thank you for seeing to it that Maura is happy," Mrs. Hughes responded.

"Well that, ma'am, is my priority."

"I hope we'll be seeing more of you," Anne said. "…both."

"That would be nice," Jane said. "Well—good evening to you all."

The Hughes all echoed this sentiment, and Maura and Jane were finally on their way. It was a short walk back to Maura's old house, but the silence between them as they traveled arm-in-arm made it feel much longer. It wasn't until they had walked inside Maura's former home that Jane conversationally said, "You know? The funny thing about all that was they never actually _said _a rude thing to me."

"Oh dear," Maura sighed, leading Jane down the hall towards the washroom.

"No, really," Jane said, pulling off her mustache and sticking it into her shirt pocket. Maura pushed her gently onto a chair near the tub and began unbuttoning her jacket for her, as Jane seemed strangely unresponsive. "Back home, I'd slug a fella who tried insultin' me to my face, but that's only 'cause ya knew for sure and could have other witnesses sayin' it was an insult. These boys ain't in that league."

"I know, Jane, it's awful."

"Jesse wasn't so bad," Jane said, shrugging off her jacket. "But Mr. Hughes and Rory sure had no problem takin' the tar outta me without so much as breakin' a sweat. I ain't hardly ever felt so low or weak in my life, Maura."

Maura knelt in front of her, utterly heartbroken at the defeat in Jane's eyes. "Jane, listen to me," she said, taking Jane's hands. "I grew up in this world. I know exactly what you mean. In places like the Creek, people are direct. It's refreshing. You know exactly where you stand with everybody. But here, we hide all that behind this fog of often-fake politeness. We feel superior to everyone, but have to find a way to be indirect when we're insulting people."

"Don't say 'we,'" Jane whispered, gripping Maura's hands tightly and leaning forward a bit. "You ain't like that, Maura. You ain't ever been like that."

She considered this a great compliment, and brought one hand to Jane's cheek, giving her a short kiss. "Thank you. And you're ten times the man Rory Graham is."

"Sure don't feel like it," Jane mumbled, pulling back again. Her eyes looked watery, though she never shed a tear. "Maura, all them fellas make me wonder what the hell I think I'm doin' with ya. I ain't got anything I can give ya like they give their wives."

"Don't you ever say something like that again," Maura said seriously. "Jane, you might not have as much as them materially. Our house isn't filled with temporal things. It's filled with the love and respect you have for me, that we have for each other, which I can assure is more than some of them have. And it's _worth _so much more. Please, tell me you know that."

Jane initiated another kiss. "I know it," she muttered. "I do. I'm sorry. I just let 'em get to me, and that was foolish."

Maura stood up. "Finish getting undressed, and I'll draw a bath for you. Once you're done, come upstairs and I promise you will never question your worth or your strength again."

With a vow like that, Jane started to undress herself a bit faster as Maura set about filling the tub. When this was accomplished, she left the washroom and took a moment to compose herself. First she went upstairs to collect some clothes for Jane: a new set of blue-and-white striped pajamas which breathed like Egyptian cotton. Maura knocked on the washroom door and told Jane she was leaving them on a chair just outside the door, then resolutely walked towards her father's lounge.

She had been in here only a few times, making it a little less nostalgic. The only reason she was in here at all was because she knew it was where her father had kept his liquor. After rummaging around in a few drawers, she found the key which opened the cabinet, and was surprised at all the bottles facing her. Maura had no time to seriously consider which would be best, so she grabbed the nearest bottle, opened it, and drank straight from it. A few gulps was all she needed to calm her nerves and solidify her intentions for tonight. After a minute or two, she returned back upstairs to her bedroom and opened the box from France.

Her original intent behind wearing these garments had been a bit selfish. It was always obvious by Jane's physical exertion and the words whispered afterwards that her love for Maura was connected to a strong desire. Maura knew she was incredibly lucky to have found someone who cared as much for her mind and personality as they did for her body, and that was a fact she did not ever take for granted. But still, a woman liked knowing she was the one person who saw and brought out a more animalistic side in someone else… there had been a few choice moments in bed when Maura had gotten a clear view of Jane's face and her eyes, and it had been a look that always made Maura's temperature rise in the most scintillating way. She hoped that by dressing a bit more provocatively beforehand, maybe she could luxuriate in that gaze a bit longer.

But now it was a bit different. This was beyond merely getting Jane aroused; it was about returning her sense of power. Maura sensed that Jane was always accustomed to getting respect and being the biggest man in the room whenever she was in disguise, and she had gotten the opposite reaction tonight. It wasn't a matter of ego as much as it seemed to be a matter of crushed self-worth. There were a number of ways Maura imagined she could restore this, and she recognized the potential shallowness for the road she planned to take, but she did not regret it. She strongly felt this was what Jane needed right now—in every way, she would be assured that Maura did not regret the choice she had made in exchanging vows with Jane Rizzoli.

When Jane walked into the bedroom, she wondered if she had actually stumbled into a dream. For nearly a full minute, they exchanged no words, only looks.

The first time Jane had ever seen Maura's legs, she had found herself feeling bitter about the fact that her long dresses always covered them. But now that she was the only person who ever got to see them, she was glad for Maura's modesty in public. Otherwise she was sure other men would more openly ogle the very impressive limbs, now on fully display exclusively for Jane. Striped, flesh-colored silk stockings went up to her thighs, with garters at the top which hooked to the bottom of a dark red corset. Lacing it up herself had been no easy task, so she was glad she had practiced a bit before the trip, even though she was sure it wasn't as tight as it could be. But that clearly didn't matter to Jane. The time it took to put it on had kept Maura from being able to do anything with her hair, so it tumbled over her shoulders and down her back in free fall, which was actually just the way Jane liked it.

When Jane's eyes finally met hers, Maura instantly knew she had never felt so worshipped. A great deal of it had to do with the way she was dressed, as there was unmistakable lust in Jane's gaze, but she received the communication that it was more than that, also: Jane was so grateful to have someone willing to do this, be this, for her. She was going to take action, and Maura was going to let her.

As Jane finally walked towards her, Maura started saying something—she wasn't even sure what, and it was obviously inconsequential as Jane cut her off with a bruising kiss before allowing her to finish the sentence. Maura moaned on contact, feeling a flood of desire flow instantly from her head to her toes as Jane clawed at her bared skin, digging her nails in possessively. She was a little rougher than usual, grabbing a fistful of hair and tugging it back, exposing Maura's neck and kissing it hungrily, loudly. Maura twitched in her grip, and Jane blindly brought one hand down to Maura's thigh, both of them groaning when she tightened her hold, yanking down. The garter snapped and Maura dimly registered the sound of the stocking being torn, but she couldn't care less. With Jane's help, Maura's leg wrapped around her waist, and within seconds, the other did as well.

Jane turned them around, moving to kiss Maura's lips again as she threw her against the wall. Maura was only vaguely aware of the pain as her head slammed into it, quickly forgotten when Jane's tongue pushed into her mouth, easily claiming her own. This was a position they had never been in: undressing Maura had always led to a flat surface, the bed or the floor, and her many layers of skirts prevented her from being able to easily wrap herself around Jane's body like this. But they were now separated by one layer of the thinnest material, and Maura truly thought she was only seconds away from merging completely with Jane's body. Things were moving so fast, so aggressively, that she could hardly comprehend where exactly Jane's hands were—her touch seemed to be everywhere.

After they had been at the wall for who knows how long, Jane suddenly veered them away, stumbling towards the bed. The one lit candle in the room was starting to die out. "I need you to touch me," she growled, sitting on the edge of the bed with Maura straddling her lap. "Now."

She had never bothered buttoning up her top, which she had planned on doing upstairs before getting so distracted. Maura pulled it off quickly before slipping a hand between them, going for the waistband of Jane's pajama trousers. To even the score, Jane brought her hands up to the top of Maura's corset, which had snaps on the front. Not realizing the extensive damage she had already done to the garters and stockings, Jane paused for a second, looking up at Maura for permission.

"Yes," Maura whispered with a stiff nod.

That was all Jane needed, and the word had barely left Maura's lips before Jane practically ripped the corset in half. It crumpled to the floor and Jane had already forgotten it, burying her face in the newly exposed skin, the other part of Maura's anatomy she was so grateful to have for herself. She braced Maura against herself, one hand clasped behind her neck and the other at the small of her back, keeping her as close as physically possible.

Maura cried out at the sensation of Jane groaning against her. Of the two of them, Jane had always irrefutably been the quieter one; this was unquestionably the loudest she had ever been.

"Maura," she gasped out. "You're filling me up—"

She pulled Maura down for a kiss, flipping them over onto the bed once Maura's job was finished. Jane kicked off her pants and took her turn bringing Maura down, careful to watch her as she became undone, knowing and loving she was the only one who could do this to Maura Isles.

Neither of them ever quite got their breath back. Jane was half lying on top of Maura, both of them drenched in sweat, left feeling boneless after that exertion. When Jane finally spoke, a particularly ragged inhale preceded her words, and her voice was raspier than usual: "Maura."

With great effort, Maura opened her eyes. She reached up, tucking back a stray strand of hair from Jane's face. "Yes, Jane?"

Jane was trembling. She leaned down for a kiss, and Maura brought an arm around her neck, deepening it more than Jane had intended. Before they could lose themselves again, Jane pulled back, collapsing and letting her face fall just over Maura's shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered. Another long silence passed before she could think to say everything else. "I didn't even know I needed that tonight."

"It's all right," Maura said softly, kissing Jane's hair.

Jane struggled to prop herself up on one elbow again, looking Maura seriously in the eye. "It's hard when I'm Jake, you know? It's hard to pull back. I'm used to bein' in control all the time. I'm used to women bein' submissive, doin' what I say and what I ask. Never stuff like this; other things, y'know, still. But you…" She inhaled deeply and finally some tears fell. When Maura reached up to brush some of them away, Jane grabbed hold of her wrist, turning to kiss the palm of her hand. "With you, I don't _want _that all the time. I wanna be me, I want to be yours. You have me wrapped around your little finger, you know that? You hold the power, the control, everything. Because without you, I am _nothing_."

"Oh, Jane," Maura whimpered, tears stinging her eyes as well. She cradled Jane's body closely to her, gently rubbing her back until the shuddering subsided somewhat. "Please tell me you know how much I completely adore you. I know you believe it, but do you _know _it?" She waited until Jane nodded weakly, her eyes finding Maura's in the dark. "I can be in control sometimes, Jane, but this is a partnership. We are in this together."

"I love you," Jane said in a shaky whisper. "I love you, and I ain't ever gonna get tired of sayin' it."

"You'd better not," Maura said with a gentle smile.

The rest of the night did not unfold precisely how Maura had imagined it would. Right here right now, she did not want to be ravished the way she had been a few minutes ago, wonderful as it had been. And all Jane wanted was to feel Maura beneath her—on top of her, around her, inside her. She just wanted to make long, slow love to her all night long, and that's just what she did.

She would never doubt herself again.


	7. Thrown From the Horse

**A/N**: So, no new episode tonight. Bummer. Also, in a couple of days I'll be taking a much-needed vacation to visit home for a little while, so I'm not sure when the next update will be. It shouldn't be too long of a wait, but I just thought I'd put in a heads-up.

* * *

When Maura woke up the next morning, it took her a moment to realize it. She thought was in a dream… _this is my old bedroom. In Boston. What am I doing here? _She sat up, rolling her shoulders, and it came back to her. Jane was already awake and presumably downstairs; her side of the bed was empty. Maura sighed in content, rolling towards the impression Jane's body had made and inhaling deeply. Lying like this in her old bed, entirely unclothed on sheets that had been mussed by more than sleep, made her feel almost sinful—but not in a bad way. In a delightfully wicked sort of way.

Ultimately she decided she would rather be semi-clothed with Jane than naked alone, so Maura pulled on a robe and went downstairs. There indeed she found Jane sitting on the sofa by the harp, a newspaper in her hand. At the sound of footsteps, Jane looked up and smiled as Maura walked towards her. She folded the paper and Maura walked purposefully to the back of the sofa, putting her arms around Jane's shoulders from behind and kissing her on the cheek.

"Morning love," she murmured, tightening her grip slightly.

"Good morning, _bella_." The low timbre of Jane's voice sent a chill down Maura's spine, and she melted into the woman's touch as Jane curved an arm back around Maura's shoulder.

Their lips met in a proper kiss, and Maura couldn't help giggling at the feel of Jane's stage facial hair. "What's this doing here already?" she asked, pulling back and gently running her finger along the mustache.

"I thought I'd better put it on 'cause I went outside," Jane replied as Maura came back around to sit next to her on the sofa. "Your backyard is real beautiful, darlin'. Anyhow, Anne was out there and she asked me what I reckoned we'd be doin' today."

Maura could not help feeling a twinge of annoyance at the Hughes. Her own father would never have considered it decent for her to approach another woman's husband when they were both alone. _Of course, it's possible the Hughes didn't realize she was doing it_. Last night it had seemed Anne was a little too comfortable staring at Jane. And Jane, as she was wont to be, was completely ignorant of the attitude behind the lilting "Oh?" that Maura finally offered by way of response.

"Yeah, and I said I wasn't so sure, so she gave me the paper," Jane said, flourishing said item. "I didn't tell her I couldn't read so good, of course. But she said it might give us a couple ideas if you ain't already got some."

"Anything catch your eye?" Maura asked, stretching her arms behind her head and purposefully allowing her robe to slip open a bit.

To say it had the intended effect would be a bit of an understatement. Jane let the paper fall to the floor as she pulled Maura into a sitting position on her lap. "Does this bother you?" she asked in a raspy whisper, the kind that burned straight through to Maura's center.

"Does what bother me?" Maura asked a little breathlessly, gently peeling off Jane's fake hair and laying it on the end table.

Jane had to force her gaze back up to Maura's eyes from her partly exposed chest. "Did you say somethin'?"

A catlike grin spread itself across Maura's face. She enjoyed doing this to Jane, who always seemed so in control and aware of herself. "You were asking if something bothered me."

"Oh. Right." Jane took a shallow breath. "Does it bother ya when I look at ya like this?"

"If it did, do you really think I'd have dressed like I did last night for you?"

Returning Maura's grin, Jane husked, "I s'pose not. That was… that was really somethin', Maura." As if the sight of Maura right now wasn't stimulation enough, Jane could feel herself growing warm at the memory of last night, when they had been positioned on the edge of the bed similar to how they were now—Maura bucking against her, driving herself into Jane…

"Jane?"

"Yes?"

"You can touch me, you know."

Jane flipped them so that Maura was beneath her on the couch. "If I want your permission, I'll ask for it," she growled, slipping a hand inside Maura's robe. She gave Maura a quick soothing glance to assure her that the remark had been made in jest, and Maura smiled her approval before Jane palmed her roughly.

It was only recently that Maura had told Jane how deeply she loved the sensation of Jane's scars on her bare skin, and even then she had only admitted it because Jane had asked her about it. Jane had worried that maybe the feeling was an uncomfortable one, but Maura had been quick to set her straight. Even when Jane's touch was gentle, the scars on her palms added a promise of roughness which left Maura feeling inexplicably exhilarated. She had refrained from sharing this because she feared Jane would be upset that Maura took pleasure in the feeling of something that had brought Jane so much suffering. Contrarily, Jane had been pleased to learn that her fears had been misplaced, and that Maura had found something of value in those scars.

Jane's right hand was at home on Maura's breast, and before her left one could travel south, Maura pulled it up to her mouth. She wrapped her lips around three of Jane's fingers, eliciting a rattling gasp from Jane, who shifted heavily against her. With a soft moan, Maura let her lips travel down to Jane's palm, leaving a long kiss on the scar there. Jane grunted in satisfaction, leaning down for a flustered, uncalculated kiss. Maura instantly dropped Jane's hand, lifting both of her own to scrunch Jane's irresistible curls.

Even as her newly freed hand went straight between Maura's legs, Jane whispered, "Have I told you recently how much I love you?"

"Mm, not since much earlier this morning," Maura purred, working on the buttons of Jane's shirt.

Then she nearly yelped when a loud knock sounded at the front door. Jane had practically leapt off her at the sound, instantly tense. The knocking was harried and anxious, cuing the women inside to believe it better get answered. Seeing as she was the one who was actually dressed, Jane quickly grabbed her mustache and hastily reapplied it as she ran to answer the door.

Anne, Mr. and Mrs. Hughes were standing on the porch, the gentleman lowering their grandson Jackson, who had been the one fervently banging the door knocker. "Morning, Mr. Rizzoli!" he chirped.

"And good morning to you all," Jane said, bending over to shake the boy's hand.

"We came to bring you these scones I baked," said Anne, handing Jane a large covered dish.  
"As a way of welcoming you and Maura to town, for however long you'll be staying."

"Well that was mighty thoughtful of ya! Thank you," Jane said, taking the dish. "Gosh, they sure do smell good!"

"Hey Mr. Rizzoli, do you ride horses?" Jackson asked excitedly.

"The biggest and the wildest."

Jackson tugged anxiously at his grandfather's sleeve. "I bet he could take on Strider!" Before Mr. Hughes could comment on this, Jackson said to Jane, "Papa's got a horse named Strider that won't let anybody ride him—and Papa's so mad about it, he's probably gonna shoot him soon if nobody breaks him!"

Mr. Hughes sighed heavily. "Jackson, Mr. Rizzoli doesn't have time to—"

"Hey, I'd be too happy to take a look at this horse," Jane cut in, and judging by Mr. Hughes' expression, he was not a man accustomed to being interrupted. "I'll just have to check in with Mrs. Rizzoli first to see what all her plans are. If we've got the time, you can bet I'll teach Strider a thing or two."

"We'll leave you to your breakfast, then," Mr. Hughes said brusquely. "Good morning, Mr. Rizzoli."

Jane nodded her farewell as the four of them left the doorstep, and she turned back inside the house with the plate of scones in hand. "Guess you heard who that was?" she asked, returning to the sitting room to see Maura looking a bit peeved.

"Yes," she replied, pretending to read the newspaper.

"Uh-oh. I know that face. You ain't happy about somethin'."

Maura sighed and closed the paper as Jane sat down next to her. "It's just Anne's behavior. I didn't even see her just now, and I could hear it in her voice—she was coming onto you!"

"Well ain't that funny," Jane remarked, folding her arms. "You can't hardly tell when Tommy's tryin' to worm his way into your heart, and yet you can very clearly deduce when Anne's showin' more than an appropriate interest in me?"

"That's because nothing about Anne is subtle," Maura tersely responded. "And you'd better tell me those scones are awful."

Frowning, Jane picked up one of the scones and hesitantly inspected it before taking a bite. It was incredibly delicious, to the point that she could not effectively fake disgust for Maura. She swallowed, savoring it, keenly aware that Maura was watching her through narrowed eyes. "So! See anythin' interesting in the paper?" she asked in an attempt to distract Maura.

It worked, even though Maura had a clear idea of what Jane was doing. She picked up the paper and looked for a small piece she'd been reading as Jane scarfed the rest of the scone. "We've just missed an art exhibit by some new fellow named Dennis Rockman. You would probably like his work; apparently he does a lot of Western pieces."

"Huh. He ever been out there?"

"It says he was brought up in New Jersey …and he's actually on his way out West now."

"Well maybe we'll run into him sometime, then! Never know who you'll meet out in the wild West, do ya?"

Something about the way Jane was grinning and raising her eyebrows gave Maura pause. "You wouldn't ever try roughing up someone just for the sake of it, would you, Jane?"

"Jake would if someone had it comin' to him," Jane had to chuckle. "Aw, I'm just teasin' ya, Maura. All I'm sayin' is that some fancy-pants artist who's been sittin' safe in his studio out here might get a bit more than he bargained for goin' out West."

"Or he could be made of the same stock as my mother," Maura suggested. "And be able to handle it."

Jane reached out for the paper, and Maura handed it over, pointing to the piece on Dennis. Taking one look at the grainy photograph of Dennis, Jane snorted a laugh and said "Yeah, he won't be able to make it." Maura just rolled her eyes and took the paper back, and Jane sobered up a bit. "Say, speakin' of guys who don't know what they're in for, though—who's this Patrick Doyle character?"

Maura couldn't help shivering. "A monster."

"Monster, huh?"

"Yes. A gruesome murderer and nothing more."

Jane removed her mustache, carefully tucking it back into her shirt pocket. "Y'know, a lot of people thought the same thing of Jake Wyatt."

Maura frowned thoughtfully, finally putting the paper down and gently touching Jane's arm. "You only ever killed in self-defense. Patrick Doyle acts first and asks questions later. He takes the law into his own hands. Jake _worked_ with the law—Korsak told me how many dangerous men you helped put behind bars. If you heard the stories of what Doyle has done—"

"Stories are just stories sometimes, Maura."

"Jane, you can't go giving every criminal the benefit of the doubt. They're not all like you. Some of them—it's just in their blood. Wickedness is in their blood. Patrick Doyle's a name we've all grown up to fear, and just believe me when I say it's warranted."

"All right, all right," Jane said, holding her hands up in a sign of surrender. "It's warranted. So what's he look like?"

"Jane…"

"What? Jesse said maybe a deputy could help! I should keep an eye out for him!"

"If you want to know what he looks like, you'd have to go by a police station and ask for their latest poster," Maura said. "I haven't seen an illustration of him since I was a child, and I could probably no sooner spot him than I could spot…"

"Some…other person you've never seen before?" Jane helped her.

"Yes. Right. Now Jane, if you wouldn't mind, I'd really love to change the subject."

"Your wish is my command, dearest. What shall we talk about?"

Maura took a breath to steady herself, clasping Jane's hand tightly. "I'd like for us to visit my father today."

* * *

The graveyard was relatively small and very well maintained. In fact, Jane was not accustomed to burial grounds being so nicely kept. She might have mistaken it for just another park, were it not for the tombstones scattered throughout. They had been given a ride there by Emily and Jesse Wade, who were driving to that side of town anyway. The Wades left Jane and Maura at the entrance to the graveyard before leaving to do some of their own shopping. There were only three other people in the cemetery, one middle-aged couple at the far end and an older gentleman who was walking aimlessly about, perhaps in search of one elusive tombstone.

Maura had Jane's hand in a vice grip as she walked purposefully forward. This was a part of their trip she had been dreading, which was why she wanted to get it done with on the front end. The last time she had come here she had been little more than a blubbering mess on Mrs. Hughes' arm, too close to the trauma to be able to process it clearly. Making it worse was the fact that Garrett had already gone West, leaving her feeling quite alone in her grief. As she walked towards her father's grave with Jane now, she felt almost guilty for not sobbing. She didn't even shed a tear until they were actually standing in front of the tombstone, reading it, and knowing that Jane was probably surprised to see how young he had been when he'd died:

_ In Memory of Desmond Parker Isles, Beloved Father and Medical Miracle Worker, Died Age 47 on July 1, 1884. _

"Ironic, isn't it?" Maura asked softly. "A man dedicates his every waking moment to saving the lives of others, and cannot find a cure for what ails he himself."

"What was it?" Jane murmured.

Maura shrugged. "Something quick. At least he didn't need to suffer." She took a shuddering breath, leaning closer into Jane. "This feels… strange. Not quite how I expected. Seeing his grave, I mean."

"In what way?"

"I …maybe it just hasn't hit me yet, but it doesn't feel real. Oh, it felt real when they first buried him, and even when I came to say goodbye before moving West. But now it's… different."

"I think I know what ya mean," Jane said quietly. "It's cause he ain't really down there. I dunno if I ever told ya this, but I saw my mother before they buried her. I saw her body." Jane's lower lip trembled, but she managed not to cry, even when Maura turned to look at her. "And I remember I just went and burst into tears at the sight of it. Granted I was only a child, but I just couldn't believe that was my mother, that she'd stopped movin' and wouldn't ever take breath again. My Pop grabbed me by the shoulders and he told me, 'Janie, that ain't your mother no more. That's the husk she left behind. Her soul's free, free as a bird.'" She shrugged. "That's how I got through it."

Maura nodded. "You're right. Or, your father was right."

"Yeah. Don't think of him as sick, or broken. Maybe the body he left behind wasn't so pretty at the time, but that ain't him anymore."

With another nod, Maura tightened her hold on Jane's arm, which was weaved through her own. "It's still… it still hurts, though. It means he really _is _gone. Sometimes, I would pretend to myself that he was still alive. And once or twice, just for a moment, I would legitimately forget—mostly when I had first moved to Arizona. New place, new life, and he was left behind. Occasionally something would happen that I wanted to write him about, and then I remembered I couldn't."

Jane was grimacing to hold back tears. She knew how this felt.

"So to make up for it, sometimes I would just try speaking to him. I know the spirits of those who've passed on are above us—or below us, as the case may be—and I know my father is watching me, listening to me, there for me when I need him."

After a long silence, Jane whispered, "Would you mind if I told him something, Maura?"

"Of course not—please, go ahead."

Jane cleared her throat. "Mr. Isles, sir? I wanna thank you for doin' one helluva job with your daughter. There ain't a doubt in my mind that she's just about the most perfect woman who's ever walked on this earth. And from what I hear, she takes after ya quite a bit, so that's a real compliment to you, as well." She was quiet for so long after that, that Maura assumed she was finished, only to be proven wrong and start crying again moments later when Jane resumed. "Sir? Thank you for sendin' her my way. She is the light of my life."

Maura turned and wrapped her other arm around Jane, just needing to be held but also wanting to communicate what Jane's words meant to her. She wondered in fact if she was crying more at Jane's unembarrassed proclamation than she was at the fact that her father's grave was before them. It felt strangely relieving to be standing here with Jane—she could not see or hear her father's reaction to this relationship, and could only imagine what he might be thinking from heaven. Her stomach was not filled with dread or anxiety as it was when she feared he was looking down on her in disapproval. Despite her heavy crying, she actually felt _light_, somehow.

"I reckon he must be real proud of ya, Maura," Jane said quietly, gently rocking side to side. "You, and the person you've become."

"Are those two separate things?" Maura asked with a weak laugh.

"Fair point," Jane chuckled.

Then suddenly, Maura got serious again: "Jane, I don't know that I'll want to come back to this spot before we leave. And we probably won't be coming out to Boston again after this trip."

"So this is goodbye?" Jane guessed.

"Well…yes and no. It's like you said—his body's here, but his spirit is everywhere. It's just as present in Arizona as it is here. And yet, I can't help feeling like it would be appropriate to say some sort of farewell." Maura sniffed heavily and turned to face the grave fully again, her hand in Jane's. "Father, I know how much you loved and approved of Garrett. But I just want to throw in my two cents for this person standing next to me right here, right now. I know I am loved, and I'm sorry mother never gave you the chance to know what this feels like."

When it sounded as though Maura was on the verge of tears again, Jane pulled out yet another handkerchief and passed it over to Maura. "You want a minute alone?" she asked. Maura could only nod, and after leaving a long kiss on her forehead, Jane walked away. She had seen Jesse walk up to the front of the cemetery, and she went to meet him. Emily was still shopping, leaving him free to talk to Jane a bit about baseball.

Maura wasn't sure how long she'd been standing at her father's grave or how long she intended to stay there before she realized she was no longer alone. The older gentleman who had been ambling around the cemetery was now just a foot or two away from her, his solemn gaze fixed unmistakably on her father's grave, hands clasping a hat respectfully behind his back. He was balding and probably about Jane's height, though heavier than her. There was a tired look about his eyes, no doubt aided by the bags under them—he looked as though he had never smiled.

Finally he decided to acknowledge that Maura was staring at him, and he held out his hand for her to shake. "Hello there. Name's Mr. Selsi."

"Sir." She shook his hand, looking curious. "You knew my father?" she asked, nodding at the grave.

"I did. Not very well, but our paths crossed once or twice. I owe him my life, as a matter of fact. He was a good man, your father."

"Yes, he was," Maura agreed. "I mean—thank you, Mr. Selsi." Her eyes had returned to the grave, but she had the slightly unnerving feeling that the man was still looking at her even though their dialogue had ended. She wasn't sure what constituted proper cemetery etiquette, and so took a blind stab at more conversation. "Did you come here to see him?"

He shook his head. "No, I came here to visit my boy," he replied, nodding to the left.

"Oh…oh, sir, I'm so sorry."

His reaction—a stiff nod and would-be casual roll of the shoulders—was a somewhat masculine one Maura had recognized Jane doing whenever she wanted to avoid a sensitive topic. "Thank you, it's all right."

"No one should have to bury a child."

"I agree, Maura."

She stared at him. "How did you know my name?"

He realized too late that she hadn't yet shared this information with him. "Your father mentioned you. I… last saw him not too long ago. He told me how proud he was of having such an intelligent daughter. Maura Isles."

"I see…" Maura looked away again, this time above the tombstone, catching Jane's eye. At first Jane assumed this was an old family friend Maura was talking to, but now she seemed a bit uncomfortable, and Jane walked over to investigate.

"That your husband?" the man asked.

Maura pursed her lips, nervously rotating the ring on her finger. "He's very protective."

"I hope I haven't affronted you," he said, taking a step away. "I just thought I'd come over and pay my respects to your father."

And he walked away, sparing one more glance for his son's grave before heading towards the cemetery gate on a path parallel to the one Jane had just come done. Maura reached out to keep Jane from following him, taking her hand. "He knew my father," she said blankly.

"Did you recognize him?"

"No, I didn't even recognize his name. _Selsi_…?"

"Selsi? What the hell kinda name is that?"

The question almost went unheard as Maura's gaze returned to her father's tombstone and something slid into place. _Isles_. "A false one," she mused. Before Jane could inquire further, Maura pointed to the name on the marker. "_Selsi _is _Isles _spelled backwards." She passed Jane and walked over to the grave she had seen the man look at before leaving, and as she suspected, it was not for a boy named Selsi. "Colin Doyle."

"Doyle?" Jane asked, coming over.

"He said this was his son," Maura muttered. "Oh, how awful… he's been dead over a year, and was only five years old."

"Wait, Maura. Doyle. D'you think that was Patrick Doyle?"

They were both staring at the cemetery gate, but the stranger was no longer in sight. Maura shivered and reached for Jane's hand again. "I've no idea. I don't know whether he had any children."

"Well let's go find out," Jane said, aggressively stepping forward.

But Maura tugged her back, looking at her plaintively. "Please Jane, don't. This isn't our concern. Leave it to the local police."

"Maura, if that guy's half as bad as you said he is, I can't just stand by and let him walk around free," Jane said seriously. "Let me talk to him. This is who I am, this is what I do."

"_No_, Jane," Maura responded with surprising resilience. "You risk your life enough as it is when you're home. You are not supposed to be working right now, and besides—we shouldn't leap to conclusions! Doyle is a fairly common name, after all. And even if you just wanted to talk to that man, you wouldn't be able to find him now. He got too much of a head start."

Jane sourly looked back to the road past the gate, and had to acknowledge that Maura's last point was a valid one. "Okay, Maura. But if we see him again on this trip, I ain't gonna ask your permission to talk to him."

"Well! Don't do _me_ any favors," Maura scoffed, heading towards the gate.

"Maura, please," Jane said, catching up. "I promise I won't go lookin' for him. I'd just like to know what the hell he was doin' talkin' to ya _if _that was Patrick Doyle."

"He knew my father. He came over to say so."

"Well, then. Maybe he ain't so bad a man as y'all think."

* * *

Their afternoon was spent up at the ranch owned by Rory. He couldn't be bothered himself to show up, but Charlotte figured that was just as well: "I don't think his pride would be able to take it if he saw another man successfully tame his horse."

"Maura, I find your husband _fascinating_," Emily remarked thoughtfully. She was looking on as her own husband tossed a baseball back and forth with Jackson, all of them waiting for Jane to emerge from the barn with her proper riding gear on. "Oh goodness, not in a scandalous way," she sighed when Charlotte cleared her throat significantly. "Jesse is wonderful, but I find myself wishing he would take a bit more initiative now and then. Jake strikes me as the type who doesn't let anyone walk all over him."

"That's certainly true," Maura chuckled. "For better or for worse. He has his pride, too."

"But not so much that it keeps him from treating you well," Charlotte guessed, and she took Maura's smile for an answer. "That's really a blessing, Maura. You're lucky to have found him."

"Thank you."

Anne spoke next: "_Very _lucky…"

Maura followed her gaze to the barn door from which Jane had just emerged with chaps, boots, gloves, and hat in place. Although the clothes beneath them all were still a bit dandified, she looked much more like her usual self, which put her at ease a bit. She waved at Maura, then told Jackson to go ahead and open whichever stall Strider was in. The boy eagerly ran off to do so, leaving Jesse to roll his baseball back and forth with Jackson's younger sister, Eleanor (not quite up to snuff on baseball herself).

"You sure you wouldn't rather be over there, with your mother and your aunts?" Jesse asked, nodding at the fence all the women were leaning against. He shook his head as Strider came bolting out into the corral, surrounded by other horses who were dodging to get out of his way. "I like horses as much as the next fellow, but they're for transportation or sport. You wouldn't see _me_ fawning over 'em like that."

He chalked it up to inscrutable feminine proclivity, entirely ignorant of the fact that the women were fixated on Jane, not the horses. Maura might have been a bit worried for Jane's safety with such a wild horse if it wasn't for the fact that Rory had apparently wounded little more than his pride in his attempts to tame it. Jane wouldn't have a problem.

"So he's not exactly a lawyer or doctor type," Emily said. "I suppose _you _fit that bill nicely enough, Maura."

"Like I said, he makes up for it in other ways," Maura sighed, and none of the Hughes girls missed the far-off dreamy look in her eyes.

As they watched Jane for a few moments, they were each lost in their trains of thought. Emily was thinking about what a disappointment it had been to discover her husband seemed to be the only man in the entire world who did not look good on a horse. She still loved him, of course, but it had been a slightly disappointing realization to see his discomfort. Anne was utterly enraptured, visualizing scenarios of Jake Rizzoli chasing down criminals on horseback, and how dashing a deputy he would be. _I almost wish I were an outlaw, if I could be guaranteed that he would be the one to arrest me!_

Charlotte was thinking of how Jake had reassured Maura before they reached the ranch that he wouldn't do anything reckless with this horse. It hadn't been a matter of condescending to Maura's perceived womanly nerves (or lack thereof), but merely a quiet exchange. Maybe Maura wasn't so financially secure, but she didn't seem to mind that idea so much. _That was smart of her. _

"Well, well! What are we all looking at?"

Mrs. Hughes had arrived, jarring her daughters out of their thoughts. "Oh—Jake's taming that horse Rory's been having trouble with," Charlotte explained.

"I see! And he seems to be doing rather well, wouldn't you say?" They all nodded. Jane had already successfully mounted the animal, and was now putting it through its paces around the corral. Charlotte could hardly believe this was the same horse. Mrs. Hughes continued, putting her hand on Maura's arm. "My dear, I hope you don't mind, but I told your mother we were all meeting up here for a picnic and I invited her to come."

From Maura's expression, you might have guessed that Mrs. Hughes had just announced her intention to live on Jupiter. "I'm sorry?"

"Why didn't you tell us your mother was in town?"

"I…I…"

"I assume you planned it that way—I ran into her at the bakery. She and Mr. Hughes ought to be here in any minute." She frowned upon realizing that Maura now seemed to be holding onto the corral fence for balance, the color draining slowly from her face. "Maura, are you all right? Didn't you know she was here?"

"No," Maura said weakly. "I didn't."


	8. Double Take

**A/N**: Phew. I hope everyone's been having a great summer- I'm so sad my vacation's coming to a close, but I do look forward to being able to write more again! I missed being away from this story, even if it was only for a week and a half, haha. Thanks for the encouragement to keep going :)

* * *

Jane dismounted Strider the moment she saw Maura practically collapsing against the fence. Deaf to Jackson's impressed whoop of delight at the cavalier way she had slid off the horse, Jane hurried over to the end of the corral, where she smoothly jumped the fence. "Maura, what is it?" she asked, taking the woman's hand and looking her concernedly in the eye.

Maura tried to answer, but her voice was gone. Noticing this, Mrs. Hughes—still looking baffled by Maura's reaction—explained, "I've just told her that her mother will be joining us momentarily."

"Her mother?" Jane asked, eyebrows raising in shock. "Constance?"

"Yes. I assumed you knew she was here! Oh goodness, was inviting her here the wrong thing to do?" In a hushed, somewhat aghast tone, Mrs. Hughes added, "Does she know you are married?"

For the first time since meeting her, the Hughes women witnessed Jane looking harried and entirely off her game. Even when she tried to compose herself, her eyes betrayed a very real fear. "No, it's—it's fine," she said. "We're just, uh, yeah—we didn't know she was here. Would y'all excuse us for a moment?" Without waiting for their consent, Jane took Maura by the arm and pulled her away towards a tree a bit past the spot where Charlotte's daughter was standing. Jackson wanted to run over and congratulate Jane on her victorious ride with Strider, but sensing that the Rizzoli's needed a private moment, Jesse threw out an arm to stop the boy.

"Jane," Maura whispered once they were out of earshot. "We—she's—"

"Ohhh, Maura, what the hell do we do?" Jane asked anxiously. This was the first time they had both faced a situation where neither of them had a plan or knew the protocol. It felt unreal, like a joke, like Mrs. Hughes would chuckle and say it had just been her idea of a laugh. "Why the hell would she be in the country without tellin' ya?"

All but wringing her hands, Maura said in a high-pitched voice, "I don't know! I thought we got on so well in Chicago—I don't understand why she wouldn't tell me she was here! Oh, Jane, I'm worried I'm going to faint…"

"Don't do that," Jane said, grabbing hold of Maura's arms near her shoulders. "Do ya think there's a chance she wouldn't recognize me? I mean, she only saw me a for a couple days a few months ago!"

Maura fearfully shook her head. "She's an artist, Jane; her eyes are more than perceptive. They remember things, and she will most certainly recognize you. That mustache isn't much of a disguise. And now she's driving up here with Mr. Hughes and she'll be here any minute!"

Jane bit her knuckle as she often did when she was trying to refrain from cussing around Maura, but it did no good this time. She paced in a small circle, muttering every swear word she knew before stopping in front of Maura again. "All right. Okay. Maura? We've just gotta—we have to try and hope your mother ain't gonna spill."

"But what if she asks me something about you in front of the Hughes?" Maura asked, already starting to hyperventilate. "And I won't be able to lie!"

"I'll speak for ya," Jane said. "They won't find that funny, will they? I'm the man, ain't I? You just leave everythin' to me, okay? I'll take care of it, I promise." Even though Maura knew Jane was only acting like she was in control in an attempt to soothe her, she was still grateful for the effort and allowed herself to be pulled into a tight hug. Jane kissed her forehead. "Just follow my lead, all right? We'll get through this."

"And if we don't?" Maura breathed nervously.

Jane pulled back, looking Maura in the eye. "We will. But _if _we don't… well …I guess we'll just be packin' it in and leavin' town earlier than we thought."

They didn't have a chance to discuss the issue further, because Constance and Mr. Hughes had just arrived in the Hughes' nicer carriage, laughing gaily about something. Walking back towards the huddle of people, Jane registered that as Mr. Hughes helped Constance out of the carriage, this was easily the most cheerful she had ever seen him. Constance was very amiable, greeting the congregated women as well as the children and Jesse, who had walked over.

Time seemed to stop, at least for the three of them, when Constance turned to see Jane and Maura approaching hand in hand. When they came to a halt a few feet in front of her, Constance's eyes flitted from her daughter's blatantly terrified expression to Jane's resolutely determined one. There was a long, sufficiently awkward silence as everyone else tried to gauge exactly what was going on. Jane was typically good at reading people, but Constance's face was enviably smooth, betraying absolutely no emotion—be it shock, disgust, or even light surprise at what she was seeing.

Jane finally took a step forward and extended her hand. "Jake Rizzoli, ma'am," she said, speaking much more calmly than she felt. When Constance took her hand, Jane bent to kiss the back of her palm. "We ain't yet had the pleasure of meeting."

"No, I daresay we haven't," Constance said smoothly. "I was quite surprised to learn from the Hughes that Maura had gotten married …to someone who wasn't Garrett Fairfield."

"Well ma'am, we ain't been married so long, and we've been real busy fixin' up a house," Jane said. "It all happened rather fast, you see. We kept meanin' to write ya, but time was gettin' away from us."

The Hughes looked nothing short of scandalized that Constance hadn't been informed of her daughter's marriage, but Constance took it well. "I understand. I think that's the most wonderful thing in the world, when two people are so in love that they seem to forgot the rest of the universe for a small while. You are young; you _should _be wrapped up in each other. I'm only grateful I have the opportunity to meet you here at all, Mr. Rizzoli."

Although Jane and Maura hadn't had even the faintest idea of what to expect from Constance, this response was still quite a surprise. "Uh—well, likewise," Jane finally said. "I was just thinkin' how sad it was I wouldn't be able to meet Maura's father, and I wasn't sure if I'd ever meet you…"

Ignoring this comment, Constance turned to look at her daughter and said, "Maura, my dear, you've not said a word. Are you upset that I didn't tell you I was coming to Boston?"

"Well…" While it wasn't the main reason for Maura's distress, it _was _still a valid thing to be upset about. "Why didn't you?"

"It was a very quick decision," Constance said. "If I'd written to tell you, I would have very likely arrived at the same time as or sooner than the letter. I had every intention of coming to visit you in Arizona, as a surprise."

Maura pursed her lips. She had learned from a young age that her inability to lie was certainly not a trait inherited from her freewheeling mother, and it was still difficult for her to tell when the woman was being honest. "Oh," she said softly. "That would have been a delight, I'm sure. It looks as though Jake and I were able to be the ones to surprise _you_."

"Yes, what a charming turn of events," Constance said.

"How amusing would it have been had you all been traveling at the same time?" Anne asked, trying to bring her family back into the conversation. "I mean, if you had been en route to Arizona, Mrs. Isles, while Jake and Maura were on their way to Boston, and you had…" Her voice faltered as everyone stared at her blankly, and she mimicked her hands passing each other. "Just… missed one another…"

Acting as though Anne hadn't spoken, Mrs. Hughes asked, "Constance, how long _have _you been in Boston?"

"I arrived only two days ago," Constance replied. She clapped her hands together once, looking around at the small group. "Well! Did I interrupt something? I was told a picnic was about to be underway in this very choice spot!" As most everyone then dutifully set about unfolding blankets and opening baskets, Constance asked Charlotte, "Now correct me if I'm wrong, dear, but the last time I was in Boston, you had just married Rory Graham, is this correct?"

"Yes, Mrs. Isles."

No matter how much Constance insisted it was more than perfectly fine for everyone to be a little less formal when regarding her, the Bostonians always seemed dead-set on addressing her by her surname. "I see. And where is the man?"

"Working," Charlotte answered.

"Ah! What a bore." As they all settled down, Constance continued, "I hope I am not boring anyone myself when I ask a few questions which may have been answered for all of you last night—but I'd like to learn a few things about my son-in-law." She watched Jane's face carefully, and although Jane managed to look calm, her stomach had lurched a bit at Constance's phraseology. "If at any moment this conversation reaches beyond the scope of Boston propriety, I will not apologize but will merely offer the excuse that I have been abroad and forgotten some of your more precise social mores here." She cleared her throat. "Now. Jake Rizzoli. How did you meet my daughter?"

Jane unclenched her fists when Maura grabbed her arm. "I met her on her first full day in the west, on the coach goin' from Mesa to Hollow Creek, where we live."

"And what took you to Mesa?"

"Business. Never mind what, exactly," she said with a wave of her hand, sounding not rude but as if this tidbit were unimportant. "The Creek's my hometown."

"I see. And exactly how long have you been in love with my daughter?"

"I…well, ma'am—Constance—I don't reckon I could name an exact date. But I didn't say nothin' to her until Mr. Fairfield was outta her life and outta our town."

"But were you in love with her while she was still engaged to another man?"

Sparing a quick glance for Maura, Jane slowly crossed her legs. "Yes ma'am, I reckon I was. But it wasn't ever my intention to act on how I felt."

"Until Mr. Fairfield made his untimely departure. I understand. Now what exactly makes you think you are a better prospect for Maura than Mr. Fairfield was?"

Maura looked uncomfortably at the Hughes, none of whom were eating and all of whom were watching Constance and Jane in rapt attention. Even Jackson seemed to know something serious was going on, and he repeatedly took it upon himself to hush his little sister. Jane glanced nervously at Maura, wondering if Constance was trying to trap her into giving something away. Jesse was preparing to mentally chalk one up for Constance's side before Maura finally got the guts to speak.

"Mother, is this really an appropriate line of questioning to begin in a public sphere?"

"I am under the impression that you have married the type of man who would have sought out Mr. Isles' permission before asking for your hand, were he alive," Constance replied. "As it is, Mr. Rizzoli did not have the opportunity to do so, and has now married you without even thinking to ask _my_ consent. Granted it could be more ideal for the both of you to conduct this conversation in private, but if it would—"

"No," Jane cut in sharply. "I'll answer any question ya throw my way, Constance, and if people ain't up to listenin' to what I have to say, they can clear out. You wanna know why I'm better for Maura than Garrett Fairfield? I'll tell ya. I can keep her safe with my own bare hands, the same ones I use to hold her or reach out to her. I can give her what she needs, not a bunch of stuff she doesn't. You wanna know why God created man before woman, Mrs. Isles?"

Constance raised her eyebrows, looking lightly amused. "I would be fascinated to hear your take on theology, Mr. Rizzoli."

"He did it so everything would be ready before woman showed up. God created the world, then man did what he had to to spruce it up a bit, and then woman arrived. Lots of the work's already done, but the best women take life into their own hands and add what they can, shape what they can, _do _what they can. And that, I think was God's original intent. Eve mighta slipped up, but I think that was a real blessin' in disguise." She ignored Mrs. Hughes' gasp of shock. "Now we can make mistakes. We can say we're only human. You and I, Maura and Mr. Fairfield, we're all only human and we all make mistakes now and then, some worse than others. Mr. Fairfield made a real mistake in treatin' Maura like her job was done in just showin' up. I don't care how much he thought he loved her, or how much he used to love her. It reached the point where he didn't act like he needed her no more. Now I believe he's been humbled, but I think Maura was right in choosin' to forgive but not forget what he done and pickin' me instead. And I ain't just sayin' that for her sake, Mrs. Isles. I'm sayin' it for mine. I _need _your daughter like I ain't ever needed nobody or nothin' before. She is my home. She is my rock. And I promise you that in entrusting your daughter to me, you are leavin' her in the best of hands."

"And what say you, Maura?" Constance asked.

"Well mother, I… would hope you would be glad that I had found someone who considered my happiness a priority," Maura answered awkwardly. "Since Jake began courting me, I have never once doubted his feelings for me."

A new voice interrupted them: "And I suppose Garrett left you feeling cold, did he?" It appeared that Rory had finally come to join the party, his arrival entirely unnoticed as everyone had been so enraptured by the dialogue between Constance and Jane. He remained standing, peering down at Maura and Jane with palpable superiority. "So long as we're dismissing propriety here, Mr. Rizzoli, how much do you make in a year? Hm?"

"Rory," Charlotte warned softly.

He shot her down with one look, hands stiffly in his pockets as he walked around Jane's other side. "As you can see by the size of my estate, Jake, I make plenty of money. Enough to provide more than well for my wife and my children, a sizeable ranch, and myself. I'll be able to send Jackson to a fine school when he's grown a bit older." He ignored a pointed yawn from Constance. "And further in the future, I'll be able to retire comfortably—all without my wife ever having to work a day in her life."

Jane was tired of looking up at him. She stood up, matching Rory's position and hooking her thumbs through her belt loops. "That what you think? I let Maura work 'cause we need the money? It didn't occur to ya that maybe she's brilliant at what she does, and our town needs someone with her experience and her skills?"

"Oh yes, a lady doctor?" Rory chuckled. "Your territories really _haven't _been civilized, have they?"

Jane's hand brushed over her gun before she rammed her fist into her open palm, not far from Rory's face. "That's a warnin', Mr. Graham," she said in a low growl. "And maybe you're right; maybe we _ain't _so civilized, 'cause if we were in my territory right now, I'd slug the hell outta any man who dared speak a word against Maura like you just done. So you be grateful I don't consider you more of a man."

Looking supremely unfazed, Rory folded his arms and said, "I think you're a little confused there, _Jake_. I am a man for all the reasons I listed just a moment ago. You are nothing but a hotheaded hick."

"You ever seen the jaws of death?" Jane asked quietly. "You ever been knocked out and woken up with your hands tied, and a criminal leerin' over ya with a gun in his hand? Ever gone for days without more to eat than whatever critter you could find scurryin' around, and no more water than a few drops in the mornin' and at night? Ever found yourself havin' to play God when you saw one of your loved ones was bein' hurt, and you was the only one who could save 'em? No? Never had to think on your feet? Money don't solve problems like that, Mr. Graham. There are scoundrels lurking in civilized society. And I don't mean weasels like you; I mean real villains. You're a fool if ya think otherwise. And I admit y'all got to me at first. I thought I couldn't ever measure up to the likes of a Fairfield, but I realized last night I don't want to. I'm fine right where I am, knowin' that when it comes down to it, I can do whatever the hell I have to with my own hands to keep Maura safe."

Rory was clearly flustered and very apparently wishing he could have come up with a retort to interrupt Jane's speech with. "Well—I—you know, Jake, you're lucky I'm in a good mood today. That, _or _you're lucky I don't consider you a gentleman. Because we obviously have something that needs to be settled here—"

"What, you wanna draw?" Jane asked lazily. There was nothing lazy about the quick manner in which she pulled her gun free from its holster, not even laughing when Rory jumped aside and she fired a shot at an outcropping nail in the fence several yards away. The sound of the bullet hitting its target effectively shut everybody up, and Jane waited patiently for Rory to turn back around to face her before she slowly stowed her gun once more.

Before Rory could try retaliating, Charlotte stood up as well and said, "_Please! _I'm sure you're both just getting a little hot under the sun. Can we all just agree to disagree and settle this like real gentlemen? Shake hands."

This was the most authoritative tone Jane had heard Charlotte use. With an apologetic nod, she said, "If that would please you, Miss Charlotte."

"You will address her as Mrs. Graham," Rory said shortly, even while stiffly extending his hand.

The look Jane was giving him was one that had caused greater men than Rory Graham to quake in their boots. "My sincerest apologies," she said, giving Rory's hand a quick, crushing shake. "Sincerest apologies to all of you," she added, turning to the group and sitting back down. "My behavior just now was uncouth and unacceptable, particularly in the presence of ladies and children."

"It was uncouth of you to protect your own reputation as well as my daughter's honor?" Constance asked. "Dear me. If that's the case, I really _have _been gone from Boston too long to know what is and is not considered appropriate."

"I appreciate the gesture, ma'am, but there's a time and a place for that sort of behavior," Jane said. Rory's attitude had made her so angry that she had effectively forgotten her nerves about Maura's mother being with them. She and Constance shared a long look, and Jane started fretting again about how much the woman was aware of. Finally unnerved by Constance's stare, Jane downcast her gaze to Maura's lap. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Maura wasn't sure exactly which emotion was ruling her at the moment: while she was moved by Jane's sentiment on her behalf, she was almost a tad mortified by how far Jane had taken it, and this was what made her realize how much living in Arizona had changed her. In the Creek, she wouldn't have thought twice about swooning over Jane's pulling out a gun to defend her honor. But here, it seemed just like Jane herself and Rory had said—uncouth, uncivilized, unthinking, unnecessary. Then she felt bad for feeling that way, when Jane had only been in acting in a manner which normally would have been expected of her, and which she obviously thought Maura deserved; and after all, the sentiment had still been very sweet and romantic. This wasn't to mention the overriding fear still possessing her about her mother, and how surreal it was that they were all sitting here trying to have a picnic in peace. Ultimately she wound up taking Jane's hand, giving it a squeeze and telling her it was all right. That was really all she could do right now.

"Well! If that awkward business is settled," Constance said, starting in on her food, "I'd like for you to continue, Maura."

"Continue what?"

"Whatever it was you were saying before Mr. Graham so rudely interrupted. I'm sure we should all be very interested to hear what drew you to a man of Mr. Rizzoli's means and caliber after Mr. Fairfield?"

"Yes, pray tell us, Maura," Rory said, peeling the crust off his sandwich as if it had done him a great personal wrong. "I should like very much to hear what to be on the look out for, lest I also lose my wife to a member of the_ hoi polloi_."

Maura placed a steadying hand on Jane's arm, sensing that even in the very likely case that Jane had no idea what the Greek term meant, she would have picked up on Rory's tone that it was supposed to be an insult. Turning gamely to face Constance, Maura grinned and said, "I suppose it's like the art you displayed in Chicago, mother. It's ineffable." She thought of the many times she had been in Europe and seen Constance's friends inebriated, or acting under the influence of other drugs—not to mention how the world had seemed upside-down when she had gotten drunk at Thanksgiving. "Have you ever been so in love that you felt you were on some sort of a substance?"

Constance had to chuckle, not unkindly, at Maura's word choice. "Oh, that's just narcissism," she teased her daughter.

"Maybe," Maura granted her with a smile.

From there on in, Constance finally dropped the subject of Jane and Maura, allowing for conversation to flow a little more easily throughout the whole party. There was still a bit of stiffness and awkwardness due to the confrontation Rory and Jane had had, but as is custom even today in the most upper crust of circles, everyone tried to act as though nothing had happened.

But every few minutes or so, Maura would be overcome with nerves by the mere presence of her mother, waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for Jane's identity to be exposed. But Constance hadn't said anything yet… why would she now? Unless her acting was even better than Maura had previously thought, she seemed very pleased by Jane's general demeanor. Was she just playing along, or was there truly the possibility that she did not recognize Jake Rizzoli for who he was? And Constance still had yet to offer a real explanation for why she had showed up here without giving Maura word.

"Dear, you look a bit ill," Constance observed of her daughter once everyone had mostly finished eating. "Are you feeling well?"

"You _do _look tired, Maura," Charlotte agreed.

"I suppose I'm just still a tad overwhelmed," Maura offered. "Mother—"

"Jake, I think we should be getting her home," Constance said pointedly.

"We?" Jane asked blankly.

Constance turned to her daughter. "I assume you are staying in your father's old estate?"

"Yes, mother. Where have you been?"

"The _Charmont_," Constance replied, naming one of the fancier hotels in the area.

"Oh. How nice."

Jane and Constance both recognized the light hint of disappointment in Maura's tone, prompting Jane to remark, "Would ya like to stay with us, Mrs. Isles?"

Though Maura had brightened at this prospect, Constance said, "Oh, I couldn't intrude on the two of you."

"Really mother, we wouldn't mind!" Maura said. It would possibly give them the opportunity to talk, and furthermore she wanted to be of use to her mother while she was here.

While Constance still looked hesitant, Mrs. Hughes piped up: "Constance, why don't you say in Charlotte's old room next door? We keep it very clean, and that way you could be close by without possibly, a-hem, imposing yourself upon the relative newlyweds!"

"That is a _very _kind offer, Mrs. Hughes," Constance said. "Thank you. I think I will take you up on it. I actually will be leaving Boston the day after tomorrow, so I hope I wouldn't be putting you out _too _much." When Mrs. Hughes waved her hand and said it was no trouble at all, Constance smiled and asked Mr. Hughes, "Would it be terribly inconvenient to ask for a ride back into town? We could drop Jake and Maura off at the house, and then if you would be so kind, drop by my hotel to pick up my things before returning to your home."

Mr. Hughes nodded. "Sounds perfectly sensible. I'll go prepare the carriage."

Jane quickly stood up with him as the women began re-packing the baskets. "Let me help you, sir."

She had gotten a few steps behind him when Mr. Hughes turned on his heel and said shortly, "That's quite all right, Mr. Rizzoli. I am perfectly capable of doing this on my own, thank you. Why don't you return to the barn and take off your riding gear?"

With an awkward nod, Jane started heading back to the barn, but she wasn't left alone for long. Jackson had run up to stand next to her, admiration clearly shining in his eyes. "Jake! That was amazing, that shot you fired at the nail on the fence! I've never seen anything like it in my whole life, not even when Papa let me go with him when he went hunting!"

"Thought that was pretty good, huh?" Jane laughed, taking out her gun and twirling it around her finger for show.

"Fantastic!" Jackson enthusiastically responded, his eyes following Jane's gun until she holstered it again. "I bet you could take Papa anytime!"

With a soft sigh, Jane got down on one knee and put a hand on Jackson's shoulder. "I shouldn't have said those things about your Pop, Jackson, especially not in front of you. A boy's gotta have respect for his father, understand? Your Pop and me might have our differences, and we may not agree exactly on everyth—okay, _any_thing. But that don't necessarily mean he's any less or more of a man than me, okay?"

Jackson looked heavily disappointed. "Really?"

"Really."

"But you coulda settled the argument with a gun…"

"Hey son, what'd I tell ya before? I only use this thing when I have to. Usually I've got a clear mind, and I don't get riled up so easy. That's what the Sheriff and the other deputies do, they keep me in line, see? A man gets on my bad side, and he don't get off so easy as your Pop did back there. In fact I used to be real bad until Mrs. Rizzoli came along and just about civilized me. I reckon some men would say I hide behind this gun, and I wouldn't be nothin' without it. That ain't true. It ain't any truer than sayin' your Pop and men like him hide behind their money all the time, usin' it and nothin' else to get their way. It's a last resort, but it's important for both of us to have it all the same, understand?"

Being young, Jackson wasn't entirely sure. He shook his head. "I don't know that I do, Jake."

"Well, never you mind," Jane said, ruffling the boy's hair before straightening up again. She was surprised to see Anne standing right behind Jackson, and got a little uneasy when the young woman asked her nephew to give them some privacy. "Hello, Miss Anne!" Jane said nervously, glancing about and not realizing until just then how isolated they were from the rest of the group.

"Jake, I just wanted to let you know I thought you acted quite gallantly before," Anne said a little breathlessly. "Rory can be a holy terror sometimes in his supercilious manner, and he deserves to be taken down a few pegs."

"Oh, uh, thank you…"

"You must make for a very impressive deputy," Anne continued, lowering her voice, her gaze traveling up and down Jane like a searchlight. "You have a very commanding presence …and such deep eyes; they must see everything. Not to mention you have quite a way with children—I've never seen Jackson so enraptured with anyone before! Maura's very lucky to have found you."

"Well, she—uh—thanks, but I think I'm the one who…"

"Of course," Anne said a bit louder, stepping in front of Jane when she tried to return back to the group. Unless she was trying actively to get information from them , Jane had never been very good at handling women who were attracted to her male form. Anne was unexpectedly forthcoming for a lady of her standing, and it wasn't long before a very baffled Jane found herself walked up against the outer wall of the barn, Anne only a couple of feet in front of her. "It seemed to me that Maura was a tad embarrassed by your behavior with Rory. She probably didn't think it was appropriate, but I found it very thrilling and romantic. If _I _were Maura—"

Both Jane and Anne jumped a bit when Maura's voice came upon them out of nowhere: "Gratefully that's a hypothetical situation you will never find yourself in, _Anne_." When Jane stared to sputter some sort of explanation, Maura merely pointed a finger at her, keeping her own gaze fixed sternly on Anne's: "You don't speak," she said to Jane before lowering her finger and now pointing it accusingly at Anne. "Frankly I am appalled by your behavior, Anne Louisa Hughes."

"Maura, I didn't—"

"Just because your family is desperate for you to find a husband, does that make it all right in your book to go chasing after other women's? You ought to be ashamed of yourself, making a scene like this with your family so close by! It's undignified and a disgrace—and furthermore, you are accomplishing nothing more than embarrassing yourself. There is only one Jake Rizzoli in this world, and I have him. _I _have him. Isn't that right, darling?"

"Yes, dearest," Jane said, somewhat taken aback by Maura's aggression.

"And how about you, Anne, do you follow?" Maura asked, narrowing her eyes. "Because of my respect for your sister and your parents, I will refrain from telling them that you have made a fool of yourself by shamelessly attempting to flirt with a married man who happens to be _my_ husband."

"Maura, I think you are overreacting," Anne said, though she looked fairly intimidated. "I was merely applauding Jake for his chivalrous actions on your behalf."

"Thank you, dear, but I heard more of what you said. And rest assured that if I ever catch the faintest hint of your taking any further type of action with the man whose ring I am loyally wearing, I will personally see to it that you are put in the stocks in the middle of the town square that haven't been used since before the Revolution. Do I make myself perfectly clear?" Before Anne could so much as nod, Maura leaned in closer and whispered, "I've detected your insinuations towards my husband before now, but was giving you the benefit of the doubt. I haven't said anything to your family …_yet_."

With that she finally swooped away, Jane not far behind (and unable to resist passing a warning look to Anne herself). Once they had gotten out of earshot, Jane laughed and looped her arm through Maura's. "Ha! Now you know what it feels like."

"What _what _feels like?"

"Tell me ya wouldn't have pulled a gun on her if you'd had one."

"I don't know what came over me," Maura said.

"Jealousy," Jane told her.

"No; it was more akin to scorn," Maura said thoughtfully. "It felt almost innate in the way it just came out of me. Jealousy would indicate that I thought she had a chance with you."

"If you feel like claimin' ownership later, I won't say no," Jane said, smiling but utterly serious.

"Careful, Calamity Jane, I may take you up on that," Maura shot back, wearing a wicked grin.

Jane gave Maura's hand an affectionate squeeze before they rejoined the group. "Honest, Maura, y'know how much of a chance anyone besides you has got with me?"

"How much?"

"A snowball's chance in hell."

Maura couldn't help giggling at that, and didn't even sober up entirely when she found herself seated across from her mother in Mr. Hughes' carriage. She was still thrown by Constance's sudden appearance and on some level was worried about what the woman wasn't letting on, but at the same time, Maura found herself appreciating that Jane had finally been able to calm her in some way. Less than an hour ago she had been on the point of hyperventilation and complete nerves, and even though Jane had initially shared her outward terror, she had come through and coaxed Maura away from the ledge of the cliff as only Jane could.

And when Constance bid them a brief farewell at the Isles estate a few minutes later, Maura was almost giddy with confidence. She ushered Jane into the house, kissing her against the door the moment it was closed.

"Sakes' alive, Maura," Jane chuckled when they broke apart. "What's gotten into ya?"

"I'm about to claim ownership," Maura said with a devious grin, leading Jane up the stairs.

When Maura brought them to a stop in a largely unadorned hallway, Jane asked, "Ain't your mother gonna be here soon?"

"The _Charmont _is at least a ten minute drive from here, and considering that she will have to collect her belongings as well, that ought to give us at least a half an hour," Maura replied.

It was difficult to pinpoint the reason why, but something about Anne's presumptive behavior had driven Maura to this current state of mind. She and Jane had never really needed to be fast before, had never really been in danger of being caught. There had of course been the recent incident of Angela's walking in on them, but Maura pushed that to the back of her mind as she pulled Jane into another sloppy, uncalculated kiss. As unreasonable and reckless as it was, Maura never found herself able to concentrate on anything besides Jane when she got riled up like this. Her arousal drove any and all sense, concerns, or worries from her brain with the power of a plow.

Unfortunately, the same could not always be said of Jane. "I need to ask you somethin'," she whispered.

"Mm, what is it?" Maura asked, leaving a few soft kisses just below Jane's ear.

Jane's eyes involuntarily closed as she unconsciously turned her neck to accommodate Maura's gentle yet purposeful ministrations. "Before… that uh… that disagreement with Rory." Although she didn't know the word for it, Jane had always found it ironic that of the two of them, she was the one who always had the energy to pull back, to talk or process just for a moment before diving in. Now she distanced herself slightly from Maura, needing that all-important eye contact. "Did I take it too far? The last thing I wanted to do on this trip was embarrass ya, and I'm afraid I might've done just that."

It took Maura a moment to answer, and not just because she needed time to compose herself. "It… _did _seem a bit rash," she finally admitted. It would be too obvious if she lied. "And for the briefest of moments I found myself wondering if your actions were necessary, but Jane—I could never be embarrassed of you, especially not when all you were doing was explaining your feelings to me. That is a gift which far outweighs any of the discomfort that could potentially arise due to the cultural differences between you and Rory."

Despite the feeling she got that Maura was attempting to speak a little fancier than usual to reassure her, Jane smiled and peeled off the fake mustache. Placing it carefully inside her shirt pocket as usual, she said, "Seems you've gotten used to kissin' me with this thing on."

"It's not so bad, now that I'm accustomed to it," Maura said, running her finger gently above Jane's upper lip. "But I do have to say I think I prefer you without it."

"Good," Jane whispered.

She was about to unbuckle her belt and remove the thickly stuffed sock which had been packed into her pants, but Maura gently took hold of her wrist to stop her. The words "leave it" came out of Maura's mouth as only a breath, but Jane received them loud and clear. When they had taken a go at passion on their train ride, Jane had always pulled out the sock from habit, and even now she wasn't entirely sure what could be accomplished by leaving it on.

Then she got an idea.

Instructing Maura to stay in the hallway, Jane went into the next room and pulled out a desk chair. She told Maura to sit, then promptly got on her knees in front of the chair, grabbing the back of Maura's legs. Glancing up to get an encouraging nod, Jane crept her hands upwards beneath Maura's skirts, until she reached the tops of those thin white stockings. Slowly, tantalizingly, she pulled downwards, gently caressing each inch of bared skin as it was revealed.

Maura's breathing came only in sharp gasps, and she found herself reaching backwards in vain for something to hold onto, something to ground her. Her nerves got the best of her and she pressed on Jane's shoulders, which resulted in Jane instantly withdrawing. Before she could as much as apologize or even ask for clarification, she was being pulled to her feet as Maura stood, and within a moment Jane found herself now occupying the chair.

Maura lifted her skirts and quickly positioned herself on top of Jane, facing her and straddling the bulge in her pants. This feeling alone extracted a breathy moan from Maura, her breathing getting increasingly ragged when she began rocking herself against Jane, and Jane pushed herself up to meet Maura halfway.

Tenderly Jane reached for Maura's face, loving the way it looked in this moment: eyes closed, lips parted, sweat building and more than a few strands of hair starting to stick to it. Jane pulled her down into a fierce kiss, pushing her tongue into Maura's ever-accommodating mouth, releasing a guttural groan at the feeling of Maura's tongue against hers. With every not-so-gentle thrust from Maura's hips, Jane felt her heart knock against the confines of her chest, getting harder and more desperate with each passing second. This itself was not a new sensation; Jane had experienced it enough to be sure that any moment now, her heart rate would explode and Maura would have reduced her to nothing more than her essence.

It was almost over too quickly. And in times like this, when there were sobering issues to be discussed, Maura hated to come out of that moment. She wanted to be able to enjoy this, to revel carelessly in the feel of Jane's hair in her fists, Jane's heavy breath against her neck, Jane's fingers pressed possessively into her sides. Having this end meant having to confront reality, specifically the very real possibility that Constance would come knocking any minute, dredging up who knew what. Maura wished more than ever that her mother's thoughts were more transparent; it would make this all so much easier, knowing how much Constance was aware of.

Jane was the first one to speak, once she had caught enough of her breath. "We should prob'ly get cleaned up a bit, before your mother gets here."

Maura couldn't help whimpering a bit when Jane shifted beneath her, once again putting pressure on that still-sensitive area. She left a long kiss on Jane's lips before moving up, leaving a longer one on her forehead.

"What's that word," Jane whispered. "The one you said when somebody repeats somethin' that don't need to be said?"

In the past, Jane had hated asking for vocabulary help because it made her feel all the less educated than Maura. But she had quickly overcome that, too eager for the possibility of expanding her small lexicon and grateful to know someone as intelligent as Maura who could help in that vein.

"Redundant?" Maura suggested.

"Yeah, that was it." Jane sighed happily and put her arms around Maura's waist. "Would it be redundant if I kept tellin' ya how much I love you?"

It had been intended as rhetorical question, but Maura considered it thoughtfully. "I can see how you might think that, but no, it wouldn't be," she finally said. "If something is redundant, it's unnecessary. Unwarranted."

"Oh, I get it," Jane said softly, leaning in for a short kiss. "So no matter how many times I say it…"

"Yes," Maura whispered. "I'll always want to hear it."

* * *

**A/N**: So yeah, Constance will be back in the next chapter.


	9. How the Cookie Crumbles

**A/N**: **Potential trigger at the end of this chapter**- intimated domestic abuse. I wasn't sure if that warranted a warning in a sequel to a story that contained Hoyt and the despicably violent things he did (not to mention drunken Jane's physical roughness with Maura), but **be advised **that it comes **after Constance leaves**. Tone-wise, this is sort of like the chapter in the first CJ that shows Korsak's flashback to the night he found Hoyt and teenaged Jane- the ending gets dark fast, but I tried to spare most details. Please keep in mind I don't do anything gratuitously.

* * *

Their faces were washed and Jane's disguise securely back in place by the time a loud knock signaled Constance's arrival less than ten minutes later. Maura did her best to look confident as she opened the door, where Constance was waving a farewell to Mr. Hughes. Stepping inside, she said, "I hope you don't mind my coming over to visit a while before retiring for the night?"

"Of course not," Maura responded, closing the door. "We're delighted to have you here, mother."

"It's kind of you to use that word, Maura. I gather you probably have a couple of questions for me … and I have some for you." She sighed deeply and folded her gloved hands in front of her, giving Maura a scrutinizing look. It was one Maura recognized from her childhood, whenever her mother had suspected she was hiding something. Then, turning to face Jane she said, "I'm not sure about you, Signore, but I know my daughter cannot lie. So you must understand that is why I must speak to her alone, at least initially."

Jane tensed and automatically took a half-step in front of Maura. "Ma'am, I don't think—"

She was cut off when Maura took hold of her arm, giving it a squeeze. "It's all right," she said softly, stepping forward. Her mother wouldn't stop until she got her way, anyhow. This was something she needed to do. "Shall we go to the lounge?"

"Let's," Constance agreed, leading the way down the hall. "Stay close, Jane. The sitting room will be fine, I'm sure." Constance turned when she heard both set of footsteps stop suddenly behind her. Jane and Maura had come to a simultaneous halt, hands grasping each other, staring at Constance in silent shock. "Oh girls, be reasonable," Constance said quietly. "You didn't think you could pull that one over _my_ eyes, did you?"

"You shoulda been straight with us from the start," Jane said.

"And caused even more of a scene at that lovely picnic? Granted that's typically the sort of three-ring circus I delight in, but far be it from me to expose a perfectly good ruse I had nothing to do with."

"I don't…"

Constance raised her eyebrows at Jane. "You are not about to tell me that you don't understand what I mean, Jane. You are the one playing the part of my daughter's husband here in Boston, where I have only just learned that she is not in fact marrying Garrett Fairfield. _I _am the one who does not entirely understand, and I am the one who will be asking questions."

Her tone was indignant and a little supercilious, but not quite what would have qualified for aggravated or disgusted. It may have been the noticeable European accent which kept Jane on her toes—she already felt self-conscious enough about not having elocution or a vocabulary to match Maura's, but for whatever reason, Constance's sophisticatedly affected diction made her seem all the more educated, all the more in control. This was a feeling Jane had never experienced except in rare circumstances on the trail with Frost: cornered, caught, defeated.

"I have only one question for you at the moment, Jane," Constance said. When she got no acknowledgement of this statement other than a continuing stony, distrustful stare, Constance continued: "Is Rizzoli your real surname, or is it Johnson?" Noting a look of surprise flit across Jane's features, Constance said, "Come, come, don't be flabbergasted. I've always had a good memory."

Jane glanced at Maura, stiffly sticking her hands into her pockets. "It's Rizzoli," she finally said gruffly. "My name is Jane Clementine Rizzoli."

Constance smirked, but not at the middle name. "So you _are _Italian."

"Yes." Jane grimaced, narrowing her eyes. Something about Constance's presumptuous attitude bothered her, but she couldn't restrain her curiosity. "How could you tell?"

"It was nearly a shot in the dark when I first met you in Chicago. I've spent much time in Italy, Jane, and your features seemed distinctively Italian. Also, I'm not sure if you are aware of this, but excepting when you petulantly place them in your pockets, you use your hands quite excessively when you speak. Aside from those who are deaf and must sign their language, I have never seen a people use their hands so expressively to communicate as do the Italians."

Now both her tone and her expression were a bit more jocular, but Jane was still on her guard. Tightening her grip on Maura's hand, she said, "Whatever you've got to say to Maura, you can say in front of me. And I for one would like to hear what sort of answers she gives ya."

"This is a mother-daughter issue, Jane."

"Don't either of you trust me?" Maura burst out anxiously, pulling out of Jane's grip. She regretted her acidic tone and quick action at the hurt look in Jane's eyes, and almost instantly calmed herself. "Mother, I understand your desire for privacy, and I will allow it so long as you are aware of the fact that nothing you or I say will be in confidence. I will tell Jane anything she wants to know."

Already walking towards the lounge, Constance said, "I expected nothing less. Now come with me, Maura Dorothea."

Jane slumped sideways against the wall as Maura dutifully followed her mother around the corner and out of sight. It suddenly felt incredibly naïve for Jane to have imagined that this trip would be at all relaxing or exciting. This was only her second day, and she felt like she'd had the rug pulled out from her under her feet so many times that she was on the verge of perpetual free-fall. Whether or not she survived the crash at the end would depend heavily on the outcome of whatever conversation Constance and Maura were about to have.

The lounge door was thick yet made no death knoll of a sound when Maura closed it behind her, moving to sit on the small sofa next to the couch Constance was already occupying.

"I always loved this room," Constance said, and Maura had to fight back a sigh. Though often blunt to a fault, her mother had also always been one for dramatics, and the way she was currently surveying the room reeked of a performance intended to give some sort of nostalgic effect. "I would often come in here to read, Maura. Or write letters. Your father built it for me, you know."

Maura's hands were clenched into fists at her knees. She was already sweating bullets and really wished her mother would get to the point. "Yes, I know," she said. "He told me." This time when the sigh came to her, she let it out. "I used to come in here when I missed you."

"You missed me?" Constance asked softly.

"Of course I did," Maura replied quietly. She knew Constance was looking at her, but she kept her own eyes fixed on the room's solitary painting—a Constance Isles original of the Charles River. "You're my mother. Even if you abandoned me here and never missed me at all, I still—"

"Maura, I missed you terribly," Constance whispered, shaking her head. Her eyes had closed, and when she opened them, it was to see Maura looking at her in disbelief. "I understand why you think I abandoned you. I know I must seem terribly selfish to you."

It hadn't been Constance's intent to guilt-trip, but Maura's conscience came roaring back nonetheless: "Of course not, mother, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Constance said with a rueful chuckle. "You, my child, have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. Some day …soon. Someday soon I'll explain things more fully to you. I know I missed so much in moving away from here, from you. I didn't think I would be any good at raising a child—and your father did an excellent job, didn't he?" She tried to smile, but Maura did not respond. "Try to understand my intentions now, Maura. Before, if I had seen you gallivanting about with your best friend and passing her off as your husband, I would have said nothing."

"Not anything?"

"Not a single thing, except maybe to say I knew her identity. But I wouldn't have pushed to know more, to know everything. I would have said to myself, 'she's all grown up now. She doesn't need to justify or explain anything to me.' I wouldn't have wondered about the implications until much later; I wouldn't have pressed for details. And Maura, I am now."

"Because you're upset?" Maura breathed.

Her breath hitched when Constance leaned forward and touched her knee. "Because I am trying to be here for you, for my daughter. Because I am trying my damndest to show that I am paying attention to your life and just want to know what in God's name is going on."

"You've never…you've never encountered anything like this before?"

"Like what? Maura, I need you to tell me."

"You seem to have a pretty firm grasp on what's going on already!"

"Maura! When I said earlier that I intended on coming to Arizona to see you, that was not lie. But I assumed part of the deal would be putting up with Garrett's presence. Only I ran into the Hughes in town, and am told that not only is that engagement off, but that you have come to Boston to show off a new husband you apparently met in the West. That was baffling enough as I could think of no reason whatsoever for my proper daughter, who professed repeatedly to the point of being annoying how much she was in love with Garrett, to have broken things off with him and recovered so quickly. And then I arrive at the Grahams' ranch and see not a husband on your arm but your very dear, very female friend posing as one."

"Well—then—there's your answer!" Maura sputtered.

"_There's_ my answer," Constance said, pointing at Maura. "Were you capable of lying, Maura, I might have believed it if you'd told me this was all an elaborate deception. The Hughes wrote and told me of the offer on this house, which is, I assume, why you are here." She waited for Maura to nod before continuing: "Boston may have more snakes than Arizona, Maura. Just not the type that slithers on the ground, if you catch my meaning. I could perfectly understand a desire to save face in front of these people. Garrett's gone, and you perceived that some of the people here might be inclined to believe that it was your desire for a career which pushed him away, and you wanted to justify that choice to them. Who better to play along than your best friend, who presumably knows you better than anyone—and, incidentally, seems more masculine that many men I have known? But you've given me the impression that that isn't what's going on here, is it?"

Throughout her mother's speech, Maura's lips had been pursed shut and her eyes trained on the floor. If she was anyone else, it would be so easy just to insist that yes, that was exactly what was going on. It was all just a joke. Once safely back in Arizona, she and Jane would once again be nothing more than the best of friends, innocent, waiting to eventually find those elusive husbands.

"No," Maura finally said in a voice that was quiet yet strong. "No, that isn't what's going on."

"Tell me."

"I need to spell it out for you?" Maura asked, her voice rising. "I'd have thought you of all people would be able to just see and understand this for what it is!"

Constance merely sat a little taller, maintaining the same moderate volume when she spoke. "I think you assume far too much about me, Maura. Your whole life, I have seemed nothing more to you than rebellious, proud—walking right up to the edge of the cliff and peering over. I know that my life in France must have seemed shockingly different and risqué to a young girl as refined as you were. But on the whole, we are not so much more evolved over there. I was shut out of more classes than I'd have liked due solely to my womanhood. I was refused entry or access to several places, places I wanted to visit, to explore. I was bitter. I found friends who didn't care, who glamourized the dredges of society. We've made life exciting for ourselves. But that does not mean I am familiar with … every type of person who does not act in line with expected social mores."

"You were the one who told me about this," Maura said weakly. "Women living together, nothing unusual about it."

"There _is _nothing unusual about it if the relationship does not blur the lines between friendship and real romance," Constance said. "The women I spoke of were educated, free-willed, career-seeking. They knew they would be bogged down by marriage, so they chose to live together for solidarity and some sort of companionship. If the relationship between you and Jane was strictly platonic, you would have told me so by now. Do you live together?"

"Yes," Maura answered stiffly.

"Do either of you ever have the intention of marrying?"

Maura jerkily held out her left hand, prominently putting on display the ring Jane had given her. "We're already as good as."

Constance gently reached for Maura's hand, leaning in closer and inspecting the ring with a critical eye. Keeping her gaze fixed there, she said, "I did once know a painter in Paris who kept intimate relations with one of his models. A male one. I was a tad surprised, I admit."

"Surprised? Not horrified?" Maura asked, remembering Angela's shocked reaction.

Raising an eyebrow, Constance released Maura's hand and said, "I'm not sure if there's a word for it, Maura. What I felt. But if you think I'm going to call you sinful…" She paused here, trying to gauge if this was a reaction Maura really had expected. It appeared from her visage and her tense posture that she had in fact been worried about this, and Constance frowned. "How could I ever pass judgment on you, Maura? After what I've done?"

The regret in her voice caught Maura off guard, and she cast her eyes off to the side, already feeling them brim with tears.

"From the age of twelve onwards, I have been told by more than one person that I am on my way to hell in a hand basket," Constance said. "And most of them meant that literally. They, and sometimes I, believe that nothing but hell awaits me for some of the sins I have committed."

Still Maura did not meet her mother's gaze. She had spent many sleepless nights worrying about where her unrestricted and self-indulgent mother would end up. It had never occurred to her to wonder about what stories Constance had yet to share.

Constance's voice was almost a whisper: "So if _I _were to be horrified by something _you _had done, simply on the grounds that it falls beyond the accepted scope of fine society? That would make me a hypocrite. And there is nothing I loathe more than a hypocrite." She cleared her throat and sat straight again, raising her voice back to its normal volume. "I may have been absent for much of your life, Maura. I may not know you as closely as your father did. But I still _know you_. When you first came to visit me in Paris and I said 'there are no rules,' you made up your own to follow. When you entered your adolescent years and I sent you across Europe to my friends, they said you came up with your own curfew. You watched some shows through your hands, lest your virgin eyes be ruined. Not even a drop of celebratory champagne ever met your lips."

"Are you mocking me?" Maura asked softly, seriously.

"No, my girl. What I'm saying is that I know you are what we call a good egg. I have met kind people. I have been forgiven by others, been treated mercifully, and surrounded myself with those who love life and live it to the fullest. But you are by far the _warmest _person I know. The sweetest, the gentlest. You would spend ten minutes chasing a fly around with a paper fan to coax it out of a window rather than hurt it. My point, Maura, is that you have never treated anyone poorly. Not from what I saw, not from what your father wrote me about you. Whatever this is you're doing with Jane, while I may not understand it completely, it is your business and hers. It hurts no one else, and therefore, I see no reason for why it should be punished or frowned upon."

"Y…you don't?" Maura whispered tearfully.

Constance solemnly shook her head. "No. I don't."

Foreseeing what was about to happen, Constance quickly moved to join Maura on the sofa, pulling her into a the sort of tight, maternal embrace they had not shared in years. Maura's nervous crying had been replaced in an instant by shocked, relieved sobbing. She was unaware of how strong her grip was, knowing only that it grew tighter as Constance soothingly stroked her back. Maura dimly registered that were it not for the thickness of the door which prevented easy eavesdropping, Jane would have been in here within seconds at the sound of such crying. This realization only made her want to cry harder—it seemed to reinforce to her the profundity of the fact that she had found someone who loved her so deeply.

"It's all right, Maura, it's all right," Constance murmured. It was a short while before Maura had collected herself enough to stop crying, but even when she had diminished it to quiet sniffling, she remained tucked in her mother's arms. Constance's voice was low and smooth when she said, "As I told you moments ago, this is your business and Jane's. But I really would appreciate the chance to know more about it all, Maura. Because I will be honest with you—I don't quite comprehend it."

"How I could be in love with her?" Maura choked out.

"You love her."

It could have been a question, or just a gentle reaffirmation of the fact. Maura wasn't sure. Just to be safe, she thought to elaborate. A short sob preceded her words: "More than anything, mother."

Constance inhaled deeply. "Well. That's something else I always noticed about you, Maura; you never exaggerate. You never thought it was necessary in real life. Just poetry. So I know you must truly feel that. It does baffle me, this choice. You always seemed happy and eager to follow in the footsteps of someone like Charlotte Hughes—this world, this way of living. I believed you belonged here. Much as I disliked him, Garrett seemed to be the love of your life. What is it that changed?"

Again it was Constance's tone that gave Maura some level of comfort, or at least safety. The question hadn't been accusatory or appalled; it had been honestly curious. And suddenly, Maura felt the desperate need to share all of this with someone. Possibly it could be validating in some way, to tell somebody apart from Jane about what all she felt.

"Everything changed," she finally said, sounding weak. "Garrett changed, I changed. I suddenly understood it, mother. What you told me at the station in Chicago—about love. I thought you were just being your usual esoteric, artsy self, but then I realized …I felt what you described when I was with her, when I was with Jane. I felt secure with Garrett, but that wasn't enough anymore. Not when I could see Jane's smile and feel punch-drunk. Not when I could make her laugh and know how it felt to be treasured like a precious stone."

"Why Maura, when did you become so poetic?" Constance asked with a soft laugh, not unkindly.

"When I met her. She… just—everything makes sense when she's with me. We're so good, so _right _for each other. I'm not as timid, and she's not as reckless."

"But you could have all that with friendship, couldn't you?"

"I suppose we could. This is friendship that's been lit on fire, and there's nothing I can do about it. I can't avoid it. When I'm with her, I feel home. Safe. She doesn't take me for granted, like Garrett did. I feel cherished and free at the same time."

Constance nodded her understanding, but as Maura was still tight in her arms, she missed the gesture. After a long silence, Constance said, "Do you remember a game you used to play as a young girl, where you would close your eyes and use your other senses to color a scene?"

"You remember that?" Maura asked with a sharp breath.

"Of course I do. I thought it was brilliant. You never showed much passion or promise for art, Maura, and this was the closest we ever came to really speaking the same creative language." She closed her own eyes. "Do it for me now, Maura. Tell me about Jane."

Maura's heartbeat had finally gotten back down to normal, and her forehead no longer felt so hot. She was now able to breathe without shuddering, and allowed her eyes to remain closed.

"I can see her pacing outside this room," she finally said. "She'll have tried listening at the door and realized it wasn't working, so she'll be pacing, waiting for us to come out. She paces when she's nervous, but never quickly. It's still slow and methodical. Usually about… six steps before she turns. Heel first. Hands behind her back or in her pockets. If she were talking with someone, though, she'd be waving those hands around, just like you said."

Constance smiled when Maura laughed quietly. "Yes, I can envision it."

"She never changed out of her riding gear, so she'll smell a bit more like she does at home—she's smoked through more cigars in those clothes than I could ever count, and the scent is practically sewn into the hems. That particular smell used to disgust me, but now I find it so comforting. She smokes to relax, so the scent relaxes me. When she is wearing nothing …or nothing with a tell-tale scent …she smells like—well, have you ever smelled wild grass?"

"Describe it."

"I'm not sure how. It's nature, it's wild, it's western." Maura inhaled deeply "I very distinctly remember hearing Jane's voice for the first time. The sound of it took my breath away. It was like honey… mixed in with whiskey. I remember your friends' voices always got a bit rough after they'd had whiskey, and that was Jane's voice, only hers had a bit of sweetness to it."

"Honey."

"Yes, honey. Masculine. And her skin is never smooth. Ever. She's had to work hard all her life, and you can feel that when you touch her. Her lips…" Maura had to stop herself here. Jane's lips were typically chapped, yet somehow soft—but Maura knew if she kept talking in this vein, she'd soon get to Jane's tongue and the tips of her talented fingers, and other details her mother certainly did not need to know. "You would probably never think she was physically strong from the sight of her. She's light and she's thin. But when she holds me, I feel as though I am wrapped up in arms stronger than any sculpted by the old masters."

For the past minute or so, Constance had been trying to pull back from Maura to no avail. Now she was finally able to do so, as Maura had sufficiently calmed herself down. "Is this making you uncomfortable, Maura?"

Maura's hand no longer trembled as she brushed away a tear. "Not as much as I would have thought. It feels … nice, in a way."

Constance managed a weak smile. "I'm sorry I wasn't better for you, Maura. I know you never got to meet my mother, and I am not entirely sorry about that. She was very controlling. She could not understand how I could yearn for more after she sent me to Paris to become a refined, well-traveled lady. It was her idea to push me into marriage with Desmond Isles. Everything had to be just so. I thought if I ever became a mother, I would do the exact opposite: I would give my child a free reign, let her do and be whatever she wanted." She laughed softly, ruefully. "But that wasn't what you wanted, Maura, was it?"

"No," Maura agreed. "No, it wasn't. I liked structure and order, which is what I was used to."

"Jane's certainly changed that, hasn't she?" Constance asked. She patted Maura's shoulder encouragingly when the young woman just laughed weakly and nodded. "I don't want to pry into your life, Maura. But I'm still curious—how did it all come about?"

Maura's features darkened noticeably. She still had yet to tell a soul about her and Jane's experience with Hoyt, because just thinking about it frightened her too much. But she often wondered what might have become of her and Jane if they had not undergone that traumatic experience, if Hoyt had never found them: Garrett never would have paid him to get rid of Jane; Jane never would have killed him to save Maura's life; Maura would have had no legitimate reason to send Garrett away. Would she have had the courage to tell Jane how she felt, any way outside the heat of a desperate moment?

"You really want to know?" she asked.

"I'm trying to be a better mother, Maura. Some people might translate that to mean I should be trying to talk you _out _of this relationship, but I am trusting you enough to make your own decisions. Obviously you care for Jane a great deal. If she were a man you had left Garrett for, I would want to know the details. So if you would be open to sharing how it came about…"

"It's hard to say," Maura finally offered, deciding she didn't want to get into the mess of Hoyt with her mother. "Don't ask me why, but I had to send Garrett away. Jane and I had gotten into a bit of trouble, and she was feeling guilty that I had been involved, and she told me she intended to leave. Leave, and never come back."

"I trust you didn't take that very well," Constance said with the hint of a smile.

"No, I didn't. In fact, I swore at her."

"_What?_"

"Well, I invoked 'hell,' anyway."

"Mm. Go on."

"That's just it, mother, I _did _go on. I realized I had never really fought for something before. Father defended my inclination towards medicine to the naysayers in Boston, and Garrett fought for me when other people our age would mock me. It's part of the reason I moved out West—yes, I wanted to be with Garrett, but I wanted to be with someone who could… fight my battles for me, I think. Our relationship was so easy. And in a way, my friendship with Jane was easy—_so _easy—from the start, but in such a different way. But when she said she was going to leave, I knew I had to do what it took to make her stay. Anything."

Constance raised an eyebrow. "Anything?"

Maura, slightly unsettled, hunched over slightly and stared at the carpet. "I fought, and she listened. She kissed me."

There were few things in life Constance had yet to try, but kissing another woman was one of them. It was, in fact, something she had never even considered doing, because she had never wanted to. It amazed her that Maura, her conservative, well-bred, refined daughter, would have ever gone and been the one to astonish her. The role reversal made her head spin.

_She and Jane have kissed. Probably more than once. Possibly they've gone farther. _This was a lot to take in at once, so fast. In one fell swoop of a trip, Constance had learned her daughter had broken off a long engagement and was now cohabitating intimately with another woman. _At least it's a woman you like, quite a lot. _

"So she kissed you." It was still difficult to visualize, but Maura looked so happy at the memory. "And what did you feel?"

"I felt everything I knew I was supposed to," Maura answered, a little breathlessly. "That difference between loving someone and being in love. When Garrett kissed me, I just …I didn't really feel much. I thought of it as something couples do, what married people do, which inevitably leads to larger families. But then Jane kissed me, and it—it was as if I became acutely aware of every particle in my body telling me, screaming at me, that this was what I needed."

"Well I certainly never thought I'd see the day where you would scream about something," Constance chuckled. "You were always an unnervingly quiet child." When Maura did not respond, Constance asked, "Does anyone in Arizona know about the nature of this relationship?"

"Jane's… well, adoptive mother," Maura said. "She sort of found out, but Jane doesn't know she's aware of it yet. We've just let everyone else assume we are living together for—well, the reasons you outlined earlier. Jane is so fiercely independent, and I want to continue working, so…"

Constance nodded. "So it works. Is there anything else you would like to tell me, Maura?"

There was another long pause before Maura responded. There was plenty she could say, but in the interest of answering as quickly and succinctly as possible, she said, "Do you remember that Scottish folk song you used to sing to me when I was a child?"

"_Flow gently, Sweet Afton…_"

"Yes, that's the one. I taught it to Jane, and she's gotten in the habit of saying my name instead of Mary's when it comes up."

At first glance, Constance's smile appeared strained, but it was only there because she was trying to keep her tears from falling. She succeeded in this endeavor, and got quite suddenly to her feet. Maura barely had time to register that she had moved before Constance had walked over to the door of the lounge and swung it open, unsurprised to see Jane standing there.

"Yes?" Constance asked expectantly.

Jane's hands had been in her back pockets while she'd paced, but she now folded her arms defiantly under her chest. "I ain't askin' your permission for nothin', Constance. I don't need it. All I need is your daughter."

"I got that impression," Constance said.

"Here." Jane pulled a folded, crumpled piece of paper out from her pocket and stuffed it into Constance's hand. "I wrote it out and everything while I was waitin' for ya."

"Jane, Maura has taken the liberty of explaining your circumstances to me," Constance said, taking the slip of paper and tucking it into her sleeve. "And I have reason to believe that everything you said to me at the ranch was honest and true. I will never make the mistake of crossing you, I promise you that. But in return, you must make the promise never to break my daughter's heart. She has suffered through quite enough already, and she has chosen a vocation and lifestyle that is not always happily welcomed. You must be there for her. She is strong, but she cannot weather storms alone."

"No one can," Jane said. "At least, no one should."

"Well said."

"_You _said it."

"That's true, I suppose I did."

"Mother." Maura had since walked up, still reeling and a bit confused. "You never did explain what you were doing here."

"I have matters which needed attending to."

"You mean father's house? I've always said I would take care of it."

"Yes, but…" Constance wavered, leaning briefly against the doorframe. "I've been remiss, girls. Jane, were it not for your obstinacy and assertiveness, I may never have realized the extent of the error in my ways when it came to my relationship with my daughter. I am trying my best to make things as right as I can. Tonight, I think we really reached an understanding."

Maura touched her mother's hand. "Yes, I think we did."

Constance smiled and gave Maura's hand a squeeze back. "Then let us part tonight on these friendly terms. I am here on tiring business, Maura. Let's get to it tomorrow, shall we?"

It was phrased as a suggestion, but Maura knew it was final and non-negotiable. "Yes, let's."

"Well. On that note, then, I shall take my leave of you. As you know, I shall be next door if you need anything before tomorrow; Mr. Hughes has already taken in my bags. Oh, and Jane."

"Ma'am?"

"That mustache suits you."

After Constance left a few moments later, Jane leaned against one of the foyer's walls, looking nothing short of shell-shocked. "What'd y'all say?" she finally asked in a hushed voice.

"I told her about us," Maura said, walking over and taking both of Jane's hands. "And while I think she was rather surprised, she seemed to take it well. She understands how it feels to act in ways society doesn't expect of you."

"She's all right with it?" Jane whispered.

Maura nodded, and Jane shifted one hand up to gently stroke her neck, pulling her into a kiss. Carefully she turned them around so that Maura was the one against the wall, but they didn't get very heated. Jane was trembling from nerves and relief, unable to fully concentrate.

"What do you need?" Maura asked quietly, brushing her lips against Jane's cheek.

Jane let out a shuddering breath. "I think I need to go outside and smoke a cigar down to the ring."

Although Maura could think of a few things she would like to be doing, she had to concede that this was a reasonable request for Jane to make. They spent quite a while in the backyard just talking and not talking, Jane regally exhaling smoke and gripping the cigar like it was her lifeline to reality. When it started to get dark, Maura retired back indoors, but Jane remained outside. She enjoyed being able to luxuriate in nature without people like Rory shoving in and ruining it. It had gotten a bit warm, and she gave Maura her jacket to take back into the house. The warm breeze felt good going through her thin shirt sleeves.

Only a few minutes after Maura had gone back inside did she hear a faint knock at the front door. Assuming it would be her mother, she was surprised to open it and see Charlotte. "Oh!"

"Hello, Maura. Would it be all right if I came in for a moment?"

"Of course, Charlotte," Maura said, opening the door a little wider and then closing it after her friend. She lead the way back to the sitting room, which was significantly better lit than the foyer. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

Charlotte glumly sat down where indicated. "I'm not so sure it's a pleasure," she sighed. "I wanted to apologize."

"You? What for?"

"The behavior of my husband, and…" She sighed heavily. "My sister." When Maura's only reaction was to frown and clench her fists a bit, Charlotte said, "I saw Anne and Jake before you went over there. She's become a bit of a randy girl, Maura. I don't know what to do with her. All of a sudden she was with Jake, and I wasn't sure what was going on, but you looked rather upset, so I assume she tried coming onto him, in some fashion."

"Well, dear, you wouldn't be far off in that assumption," Maura admitted. "But ultimately, no harm was done."

"I imagine Jake must have to fight women off with a stick at home," Charlotte said with a laugh. "He seems like a wonderful man, Maura."

"He is."

Charlotte's smile faded quickly. "Rory shouldn't have spoken to him like that. I'm so sorry."

"Charlotte, don't. I'll allow you to apologize for your sister's behavior, but you should not feel obligated to apologize for your husband's. He should be man enough to admit it when he is in the wrong, or at least uncouth."

"I agree," Charlotte said thickly, nodding. "But don't expect an apology from him, Maura, you'll never get one. Rory is always right." She rubbed her neck next to her shoulder, and her hand remained there long enough for Maura to grow curious.

Furrowing her brow, she moved closer to Charlotte on the couch. She gave Charlotte's hand a small tug, and although the blonde resisted at first, Maura was able to move it away soon enough. Her delicate fingers met at the first of the buttons on Charlotte's tall collar, and Maura methodically began undoing them. Her ears barely registered the faint sniffling sounds Charlotte was making when Maura peeled back the collar, revealing a large bruise on Charlotte's shoulder. Stunned, she stared at the mark for several long moments before slowly bringing her gaze back up to Charlotte's tearful blue eyes.

"Your posture," she whispered, realizing the funny way Charlotte was sitting. "Your back, too?" When Charlotte only pursed her lips together in an effort to withhold, Maura said, "Don't lie to me. Please."

Finally, Charlotte nodded.

"He—he _hit _you?"

Charlotte looked ready to shake her head, but a defeated, cracked whisper came out of her: "Yes."

"Is this the first time?"

"The first time sober. But it doesn't hardly happen," she added quickly. That did nothing to take away the horrified look on Maura's face.

Jane came strolling back inside then. "Oh, hello, Charlotte! Didn't know we were expectin' ya."

The sentence hadn't quite left her before Charlotte had jumped up, re-buttoning her collar. "Jake, hello, sorry—I just came over…"

She had no idea what all Jane had seen, and it had only been a glimpse. A very telling one. Jane glanced at Maura, who gave her a loaded look before standing up and gently putting her arms around Charlotte. "Rory," was all she had to say, and Jane noticed Charlotte wince in pain when Maura tenderly touched her back.

That was all she needed.

Jane grabbed her jacket from the chair Maura had slung it over. Without another word to the other women, she marched steadfastly to the front door and wrenched it open, closing it behind her with a bang.


	10. Your Place

**A/N**: I tried to do my research here, regarding domestic violence laws in American history. Turns out that while it was still considered a legitimate marital relation in the 1870s (so long as no permanent damage was done to the wife), things slowly started changing towards the end of the century. It was an offense punishable by jail time or lashes in some states, but certainly wasn't adopted nationwide or particularly well enforced.

* * *

Jane's footsteps were heavy and hard as she stalked angrily down the road. The Grahams' home was just across the street from Mr. and Mrs. Hughes, at least making for a short trip. Charlotte had tried weakly to pull out of Maura's grip, to stop Jake before anything more dramatic happened, but Maura had not relinquished her. Maura did have to wonder if it had been her place or even been wise to alert Jane to the situation, but she couldn't dwell on that too long because it was already out of her hands: Jane had seen physical proof of a woman's abuse, and no amount of coaxing or negotiating would stop her from seeking justice.

Her first obstacle of sorts was Jesse. The Wades lived next door to the Grahams, and he himself was walking up to his front porch when he noticed Jake Rizzoli striding down the walk and looking very much like a man with a mission.

"Hey, Jake!" he called out, hurrying over.

"Go home, Jesse."

"What's going on?"

"Actually, I need you to do me a favor. Come with me and take the kids outta this house before I have a word with their father."

Looking a bit panicked, Jesse reached out and took hold of Jane's arm. She whirled around to face him, and he nearly cowered at the glare she threw him. "You mean Rory? Uh—Jackson and Eleanor are already with me and Emily. Charlotte asked us about an hour ago if we'd watch 'em for a spell. She's been doing that for a while, come to think of it. Every couple of nights she'll send the kids over, thinks it's good practice for us to work on our impending parenthood!"

"She sends them over to you regularly?" Jane asked.

"I don't know if I'd say _regularly_. Jake, what's the matter? You look real upset about something."

Jane searched his eyes, trying to read him. Jesse had an honest face, but she didn't know if it was appropriate for her to do what Maura might consider gossip. At the same time, she knew from experience that it was always a good idea to have some sort of backup.

"Jesse, where do your loyalties lie?"

"What do you mean?"

"Rory ain't got you wrapped around his finger, does he?"

Jesse snorted and puffed out his chest a bit. "Certainly not."

"You be honest with me, then. What's the law around here regardin' men who lay hands on their wives?"

Jesse's bravado diminished slightly. "What d'you mean?"

"I mean is there any kind of law against men beatin' their wives?" Jane growled. "Seems it's different in every state I been to—is Massachusetts a place where a man can get a free pass so long he's got a piece of paper signed by a priest bindin' him to the woman he's bruisin' up?"

"Wait, wait." Jesse held out a short hand, looking from Jane to the front door of Rory's house. "Are you saying that _Rory's_—that son of a—"

"Whoa there," Jane said, stepping in front of Jesse when it looked as though he aimed to go marching up to Rory's door himself. "Answer my question, Jesse."

"There's no official law here," Jesse answered. "But I'm pretty good friends with the chief of police, and from what I can gather, cases like that get treated like they do in Maryland. A man could do some time in jail, or just get away with lashes. But someone like Rory Graham? That'd be tough to pull, Jake. He's got a lot of influence, and that goes a long way."

"You mean he's got this town in his pocket?"

"Just about," Jesse said awkwardly, rubbing his neck.

Jane nodded at him. "Where d'you stand on all this?"

"I think any man who needs to hit his wife in order to control her can't call himself a man. Not only is it downright cowardly, it's cruel. Women have got their place, sure, but if you've got to resort to violence to keep her there, you're a sorry fellow. She ought to be able to respect you enough to respect your word, not your fists."

While Jane didn't entirely agree with all of his views on husband/wife dynamics, she at least appreciated that Jesse was on her side when it came to Rory's inexcusable physical abuse. "Good man. You stay here at the door and make sure nobody comes in, especially Jackson or Eleanor. Or Charlotte, come to think of it."

"And what if Rory tries coming out?" Jesse asked as Jane started walking resolutely to the door.

She snorted and waved her hand, not stopping. "The only way Rory Graham'll get past me is if he kills me, and the only way he'll kill me is if I keel over and let him."

And she knew it would be redundant to add that wasn't going to be a possibility.

Without knocking or otherwise announcing her presence, Jane yanked the huge door open and slammed it behind her. "Graham!" When she got no response, Jane walked down the hall and was soon accosted by an anxious looking butler.

"Pardon me, sir—"

"Nope," was all Jane said, walking him backwards into an adjacent room. "If you know what's good for ya, you'll stay in here." She turned on her heel and looked across the hall, seeing Rory seated in a large armchair with the evening paper and appearing quite baffled. As she crossed over to him, she heard the butler close the door of the room he'd been pushed into. "You sit the hell back down," she snarled, giving Rory a shove when he rose out of his seat.

This was a test to see how easily Rory would cave, if he was the type of man who would think nothing of hitting a woman but would cower if another man tried something with him. But he apparently possessed a little more courage than Jane gave him credit for: he threw the paper down on the floor and stood defiantly back up.

"What the hell is this, Rizzoli?"

"That's Deputy Rizzoli, you filthy bastard," Jane shot back.

"I will not be spoken to like that in my own home!" Rory barked. He was glad to be a couple of inches taller than his opponent, even if Jake did not seem at all bothered by the height difference.

"You wanna settle this outside? Fine, we'll settle it outside!"

"Settle _what? _Where do you come off, barging in here and man—trying to manhandle me?"

"You think I've really tried yet?" Jane asked, lifting her arms in a way that invited Rory to come at her. "Oh, that's cute. How many times ya done it, Graham? How many times have ya hit your wife 'cause she ain't done or said just what you wanted?"

Rory looked stunned. "Charlotte—what? What did she say to you?"

"She didn't have to say nothin'," Jane spat. "In case you forgot, I'm married to a doctor. Maura could see somethin' wasn't right, and I just happened to see the damage you've done to that shoulder of Charlotte's, and probably other places."

Rory did not appreciate what he perceived to be a hint that another man had seen his wife immodestly dressed. He also found himself anxious that someone as brash as Jake had found out about this all—plenty of men hit their wives as a means of subjugating them, he was sure, but it wasn't something proper people discussed. And it certainly wasn't something other men had any right to judge or get angry about. Considering himself too much of a gentleman to throw a punch, Rory lifted his hand to slap Jane across the face.

One of the legends about Jake Wyatt was that he had reflexes quicker than lightning. Frost used to say lightning struck almost as quickly as Jake Wyatt.

Jane did not shift her gaze from Rory's eyes as she effortlessly reached out and caught him at the wrist before his hand came into contact with her cheek. She tightened her grip and said, "You wanna know the last time a man from Boston tried to slap me, Mr. Graham? It was Garrett Fairfield, and I let him. I deserved it. But I ain't gonna sit back and let you slap me around, 'cause I _know _I ain't done nothin' to deserve it."

"No?" Rory hissed, pulling free when Jane loosened her grip. He flexed his fingers. "Is it common practice in the west for law enforcement to make house calls like this?"

"I wasn't finished, Graham. I also ain't sittin' back 'cause if you try layin' a hand on me again, I won't be so nice. Now here are the facts as I see 'em: you've gone and hurt your wife. I think the way you talk to her probably hurts her enough, but when you hit her, I can _see _the proof of her pain. And that don't make me too happy, Graham."

"Well I'm so sorry that your happiness does not factor into our marriage in any way," Rory said. "Charlotte is my wife, and what transpires between us is the business of nobody but ourselves."

"That's where you're wrong. Seems the law in this town ain't so nice to cowards, see?"

"Who're you calling a coward?" Rory asked through his teeth.

"Why, _you_, Mr. Graham."

With a brave attempt at scorn, Rory scoffed, "That's rich! You're the one who doesn't feel safe without even going to _dinner _with a firearm on your hip."

"You don't know what I wear this gun for, Graham. But I do feel pretty safe in sayin' I know you hit your wife 'cause it gives you some sick sense of power, right? Disgraceful. You're supposed to be a fairly successful businessman, and probably have half this town in your pocket, and that _still _ain't enough for ya? You have to push down your wife, too? A woman, who is smaller and weaker than you?" She leaned in closer, hands resting nonchalantly on her hips. "_Coward_."

Out of habit, one of the first things Jane ever did when she met a man was try to size up his weakness. It had been pretty clear right out of the gate that what Rory most chiefly guarded was his pride—hurt him there, and you could hurt him anywhere. He had been pushed too far, and somewhat stupidly fired a fist at Jane. She was having none of it.

Jane grabbed his forearm with both hands and stepped around Rory, twisting his arm behind his back. He howled from the unexpected pain, gasping sharply when Jane put her other hand between his shoulder blades and pushed him down to the floor. He was now propping himself up on both knees and one outstretched hand, his elbow wobbling somewhat pathetically. Jane was crouched to the left of him, holding his right wrist in a vice-like grip. Rory struggled to break free, and Jane let him try for a few moments so he would get an idea of how futile his efforts were. She leaned down close enough to whisper into his ear.

"Just a tip—don't throw a punch at a man's face with your fist. You'll break all them delicate little bones in your hand." She nonchalantly cleared her throat, emphasizing how unbothered she was by their positioning. "Y'know, you've sure done a lot of talkin' while I been here, Mr. Graham," she said, her breath hot and unpleasant on the side of his face. "Now it's my turn. And you'd best believe every word I say as if it were gospel, you understand?"

"Blasphemer," Rory choked out.

With a grimace, Jane twisted his arm harder, knowing she was on the verge of breaking it. "I'm guessin' you've figured by now that you ain't gonna be able to overpower me. You ain't ever had to stick up for yourself once in your life, and I've had to ever since I was a kid. So you're thinkin' maybe you'll try the law. That your plan, Graham? Once I get outta here, you gonna call your policemen on me? I won't lie; men have tried arrestin' me before. You know the longest I ever spent in jail? Wanna wager a guess?" She paused for effect. "Half a day. And that was by choice. Then the Sheriff let me walk on outta there."

Rory was now nothing short of terrified beyond the point of being able to speak. His mind was blank, devoid of the ability to conjure weak attempts at comebacks. So he tried his hand at breaking free again, but Jane retaliated by shoving him face-down to the floor. Using her teeth, Jane pulled her glove off her free hand and showed her palm to Rory.

"See that?" she asked gruffly. "Answer me."

With his cheek pressed to the floor, Rory was unable to nod. "Yes," he grunted.

"I've got a scar just like it on my other hand; real pretty. Got those when I was fourteen years old, and I devoted the rest of my life to huntin' down crooks like the man who gave 'em to me. That's a lifetime of scrapes I threw myself into. Willingly. I've been unarmed and put up against ten men with rifles. I've even had my hands tied and my neck in a noose that turned out to be a little too loose. I've had nothin' but my wits to defend myself from a man four times my size who had me in a headlock. You know what a headlock is, Mr. Graham?"

Effortlessly Jane forcibly shifted their positions so that her arm was braced tightly around Rory's neck—not enough to do any real damage, but enough to send the message across.

"And you know what?" she whispered. "I never backed down. I never got defeated. I've got a perfect record. Now you answer me truthfully, Graham. You ever bruised up one of your kids?"

Rory shook his head, sputtering. "No."

Jane tightened her grip. "You're lyin'."

"I'm not!"

"You'd better not be. You ever lay another hand on Maura's friend or one of your kids, and I'll track you down. This is a warnin', Graham. I ain't gonna be in Boston forever, but you can bet your ass I've made friends up here who'll send me a line if they catch wind of somethin' funny." (Not entirely true yet, but she was on a roll. She had to keep going.) "Do we understand each other? You don't touch a hair on her head. Now I know what you're thinkin'. How I'll go home and forget all about this. And if I don't, you'll wonder how I'll find the time or the patience to come after ya if I ever hear you've gone and hit your wife again.

"Well sir, I'll tell you a secret. Plenty of people out west know I'm fast, I'm strong, and I ain't too stupid. Not many of 'em know about my patience. The man who scarred my palms? I searched for him for _fifteen years _before I finally tracked him down." She let that sink in, enjoying the particularly sharp gasp it elicited from Rory, who was breathing harshly enough as it was. "And I was happy to let justice be served and give him a trial and all that. But he went and threw away his shot at mercy when he hurt a woman in front of me. So you know what I did? I _killed_ him."

Without intending to, her voice had lowered into a darker, deeper pitch on those last three words.

Once when she was twelve, Jane had managed to bake a cake without burning the entire thing. The edges, though, had been burnt to a crisp and she had spent nearly half an hour scraping them off and packing them into a tight wad. It was black, it was hard, it was dirty. It was what her voice always sounded like when it was angered into this pitch, as if her throat was coated with that blackened substance.

"I didn't know that man's name. I didn't even know what his face looked like. But I found him. Now I know your name and unluckily I know your ugly face, too, Graham. There ain't no place you can hide away that I won't find ya."

With that, Jane released him and got to her feet. Rory gasped for breath, raising a trembling hand to his neck and trying to rest once again on his knees. He gaped wordlessly as Jane walked calmly out of the room as if she did things like this every day, and he shook as Jane carelessly closed the door on him. She went back across the hall, entering the room where the butler was still standing, looking confused and not a little nervous.

"There any ways outta this house besides the front door?" she asked.

"Y-yes, sir—there's one in back."

"What's your name?"

"St…Stewart, sir."

"Stewart, you guard that back door with your life, understand? I'll be back in just a minute. If Mr. Graham tries leavin' through it, you stop him by whatever means necessary. Keep him from goin' out. We clear?" Before she got a response, Jane turned on her heel and went out the front door. There she saw Jesse dutifully standing by the porch.

He looked surprised to see her. "Did you talk to him?"

"Yeah, we had a little chat. I'll be right back, Jesse. What I said before still stands—no one comes in or out of this door, you clear?"

Pleased that a renowned deputy was entrusting him with such a task, Jesse nodded and stood at attention. "Yes, sir!"

If she didn't consider the situation so serious, Jane might have taken pride in Jesse's response to her. Instead, she merely nodded curtly at him before walking briskly back across the street. Upon reentering Maura's father's house, she saw Charlotte and Maura almost exactly where she had left them: huddled together on the bench by the unused fireplace, Maura's arms protectively around Charlotte.

As soon as she saw Jane, though, Charlotte pulled herself out of Maura's grip and stood up. "Where did you go, what did you do?" she asked, her voice thick from the tears she had let fall in Maura's presence.

"I had a talk with your husband," Jane answered calmly.

"What did he say?" Charlotte demanded, ignoring Maura's quiet pleas for her to calm herself. "Jake, you didn't need to go over there, it w—it was my fault."

Jane had heard this line before, and it never made sense to her. "What part about your husband hurtin' ya was _your _fault?" she asked.

"Well he was already in a bad mood after what happened at the picnic, and when we got home I let Jackson tell him about how you tamed that wild horse of his—I should've known his pride couldn't stand it, and I told him anyway! See? I shouldn't have done it if I'd known it would upset him, that was stupid of me—"

Forgetting for a moment that she was practically a perfect stranger, Jane put a hand familiarly on Charlotte's shoulder, only for Charlotte to swat Jane's arm away. "Charlotte, don't go tellin' me this is your fault. I can understand you're angry and you're scared. I ain't askin' ya to like me or like what I do. I don't care if you hate me. All I care about is that you don't get hurt by your husband again. I don't give a rat's ass about his reputation, but I wanna know what you think: I could get him behind bars for a while if I wanted to. Maybe. Are you worried what that could do to your family? Do you trust him enough to go back home with your kids now?"

Reading Charlotte's expression was difficult: it had softened noticeably during Jane's short speech, but Jane couldn't tell if it now displayed relief, anxiety, or uncertainty. A few long, uncomfortable moments passed during which Charlotte tried communicating her thoughts through her eyes. She wanted desperately to ask for Jake to yes, please, let Rory stew in jail for a while. But people would talk, perhaps to the detriment of her children—like how Maura's reputation had always been considered suspect by many because of the gossip surrounding her mother. _But look how well Maura turned out, and how well things turned out _for _her…_

Eventually Jane realized it was going to be up to her to make some sort of executive decision: "I'm gonna go back to your house," she said gently, taking a step backwards. "And I'm gonna take your husband to the authorities. I'm pretty convincing when I have to be, so I doubt I'll be comin' back with him. I'll guarantee you at least… five days. After that, if you want more time, you'll have to go to the Sheriff yourself. Or the—chief, whatever ya call him." Jane continued walking back, away from the other women and towards the front door, waiting for Charlotte to stop her. Once her hand was on the knob, Jane said, "Give me two minutes, and it'll be safe for you to go home. If you want to stop me, Charlotte, speak now. I'll leave it alone."

Charlotte said nothing. Jane waited semi-patiently for anything, even just a nod or a shake of the head, but Charlotte remained stationary. Even after Jane resolutely left the house again, Charlotte could hardly bring herself to move.

Maura delicately put a hand on her shoulder, and Charlotte gave a small sob, bringing her hand up to rest on Maura's.

"Charlotte?"

"That's a good man," Charlotte said, her voice thick with tears once again. "Maura, you hold onto him."

Maura didn't really know what to say. When it came to choosing life partners, she knew she couldn't have done better than Jane, but she didn't want to rub that in Charlotte's face. Especially not when the small, blonde woman turned around to face Maura, her eyes swimming with tears. They embraced and stood there for nearly a full minute.

"I suppose you deserve each other," Charlotte finally said.

"Every woman deserves a Jake Rizzoli."

Weakly attempting to laugh, Charlotte pulled back to look at Maura with a strained smile. "Well, I guess some of us are more lucky than others, then. Maura, I'm sorry I didn't treat you more kindly when we were growing up."

"Oh Charlotte, don't be silly. You were always a sweet girl, but you were those crucial few years younger than me. That made all the difference, remember?" It was true; Charlotte had always been polite to Maura, but the other children Maura's age didn't set much store by the opinion of a girl who was younger than them and probably didn't know any better.

Charlotte smiled at Maura's kindness, but quickly became somber again. "What will I tell Jackson and Eleanor? About where their father is, I mean?"

"Well, I suppose you could tell them he's… gone away on business?"

"You know this town," Charlotte said mournfully. "Word is bound to get out soon. I hate to think of how they might be affected."

"Look at it this way," Maura said bracingly. "Perhaps letting Rory sit in jail and think about what he's done will keep your children from ever being affected by him the way you've been."

Maura did not quite realize the harshness in the comment, but Charlotte was gentlewomanly enough not to mention it. She knew Maura had only intended to help. Once she had sufficiently brushed her tears away and her eyes had gotten a little less red, she decided she was ready to venture getting her children from her sister and going back home. Maura bid her farewell at the door, suddenly sad at being alone.

She was unsure how much time passed before Jane got back, but it felt like the longest wait of her life. There was no reason for her to be scared, she knew, but she was still shaken by the bruises she had seen on Charlotte's body, and how Charlotte had tried writing them off—or worse, blaming herself. Maura tried to read to take her mind off it, but she couldn't get past a sentence or two. She went and sat at the piano, waiting for the inspiration to play to come to her, but it never did. The clock struck the hour, but she didn't even know which hour it was.

When she finally heard the front door open, Maura stood up from the piano bench and walked purposefully down the hall. Jane was standing at the end, hanging her hat on the rack and detaching her fake mustache. The lamp by the door provided enough light for Maura to see that Jane appeared perfectly uninjured. Jane removed her coat, hanging it up as well, and it was only when she turned away from the coat rack that she realized Maura was standing at the other end of the hall.

Initially, it felt like one of the many showdowns Jane had been in: both of them were staring at each other, neither wanting to move until the other had spoken up.

"You angry at me?" Jane guessed. "You think maybe I was outta line, nosin' in the way I did?"

"That depends. Aside from escorting Rory to jail, what exactly did you do?" Maura asked, slowly walking closer.

Jane remained where she was, hands creeping defiantly into her pockets. "I didn't touch him."

"Jane."

She sighed. "I didn't _hurt _him."

"Jane…"

"I didn't hurt him too bad. He tried to hit me first, and I defended myself. Twisted his arm and got him in a headlock." Even as Maura made some sort of "tch" noise at the violence, Jane stayed strong, refusing to believe she had overstepped her bounds. "That was the only way he'd have listened to me, Maura, I swear. Men like that don't listen unless you force 'em to."

Maura stopped about a foot away from Jane. She could see Jane's eyes searching her face, trying to read it. _No, I'm not angry. How could I be? _With a soft sigh, Maura stepped forward and put her arms beneath Jane's. Jane had looked tense, and Maura felt her immediately soften with the embrace, returning it and resting her cheek against Maura's forehead. Maura had been trying to keep a brave face for Charlotte, and managed to keep from crying in her presence, but was now openly weeping in Jane's arms. None of Jane's usual comforting words were coming to mind, and she could only soothingly rub Maura's back, knowing that there wasn't anything she could say to make this whole situation better.

After a minute or so had gone by, Maura stammered, "Charlotte t-told me to h-hold onto you. She says I'm lucky to have you."

"I'm the one who's lucky," Jane said. "I really am."

"No…" Maura pulled herself out of the loose embrace, trying to face Jane with a stiff upper lip. "There's not a word for what I am, Jane, there's really not. I was lucky to have Garrett in a place like this. I was lucky to have him in my proverbial corner. But I am—whatever is _beyond _lucky to have gotten you."

"Maura…" Jane reached up, trailing her fingers along Maura's cheek to rid it of fallen tears. "I remember when I first knew ya, thinkin' you had a real gift with your class. But that wasn't your only gift—you turned out to be a smart, and a brilliant doctor, and you could give someone hell with an arrow if ya wanted to." They shared a short chuckle over that, though in Maura's case it was clear she had only been desperate for a chance to lighten the mood. Jane got serious again: "Maura, sayin' you've got a gift ain't enough. You _are _a gift. You're a gift to me, every day, and I ain't ever gonna forget that."

Maura pulled her down into a kiss.

They stood there in the foyer kissing for quite some time, neither of them knowing or caring how much of it was slipping by. But this was not the type of kiss they usually enjoyed losing themselves in, the type where they felt delirious with love or passion, minds wiped blank of conscious thinking by the romance of it all. The kiss Maura had initiated was purposeful, thoughtful. It sent a message of something greater than desire or affection.

What finally stopped it was when it finally registered with Maura that only one of Jane's hands was bare. She broke off the kiss, and after a moment of quiet contemplation, took hold of both of Jane's hands. Rubbing her thumbs along the backs, she looked up at Jane, who sighed heavily.

"Maura, I think we have to talk."

Agreeing, Maura led the way upstairs to her room. She didn't feel like carrying this on in the foyer anymore. As she sat down on the edge of her bed, Jane pulled off her other glove and tossed it onto the desk, flexing her fingers and joining Maura.

"Did you do that to tell Rory about Hoyt?" Maura guessed.

"More or less." Jane shrugged, kneading her hands and staring at the floor. It was only when the silence got too loud to bear that Jane spoke up again: "It was strange tonight, Maura. I've always felt good when I've caught up to someone bad. I like makin' him pay, but I guess I don't like makin' him suffer no more, like I used to. I was proud that I could take on these guys, y'know? That I could be the one stoppin' 'em from hurtin' people again, or robbin' people again, or what have you. But tonight, I dunno. Maybe it's 'cause I know Charlotte, but I was just so sick at the thought of Rory doin' that to her that I couldn't even concentrate on takin' pleasure in makin' him pay. I was too upset."

Maura had no idea how to take this, as she had no idea how Jane had meant to deliver it. "What happened after you left us the second time?" she asked, placing her hand consolingly on Jane's back.

Jane looked up to stare at the wall, still avoiding Maura's gaze. "Jesse was sort of my partner. He was on my side, and he's friends with the chief of police. Or I guess I should say, the chief of police is a big fan of Jesse's—likes baseball. So I told Jesse it seemed Charlotte was worried about word gettin' out, and he suggested we take a bunch of back roads so people wouldn't see us draggin' Rory to jail. So that's what we did. Jesse explained everythin' to the Sher… to the chief, and told him how I was this really famous deputy from Arizona and all that, and the police chief said if people respected my word out there and I thought a man deserved jail time for hittin' his defenseless wife, then that man deserved jail time."

"Did Rory try to get out of it?"

"Aw, 'course he did. But this police chief, I reckon he's like Korsak. He ain't corrupt. He wanted to do the right thing. So he kept him there."

"Well then. That went about as well as could be expected, didn't it?"

"Maybe. I tried to scare him, Maura, when we were alone. I tried to scare him from ever hurtin' Charlotte again. But what if he does?"

"Jane, you've done more than could ever have been asked of you. Don't do this to yourself."

Jane threaded her fingers together and rested her chin on them, sighing again. It was a defeated sound, and Maura hated hearing it come from Calamity Jane. It was almost as heartbreaking as the nervous, broken way Jane whispered Maura's name a few moments later.

"Yes?"

"This all ain't what I meant when I said I wanted to talk to ya." She finally sat up, still kneading her hands, and dared to look Maura in the eye. "We ain't ever talked about ...Hoyt." Jane watched Maura carefully, waiting for a response. Maura wanted to ask that they wouldn't talk about him, never mention his name again, but the words caught in her throat. Maybe this _was _something she had needed. Jane went on: "I was a coward, Maura, and I ran off right after it happened. When I got some sense knocked into me and came to see ya, well…"

"We got a little distracted," Maura suggested, offering a weak smile that Jane quickly returned, taking her hand.

And it was true—they had gotten so swept up in their new romance and then so worried about the repercussions of it that they had never given themselves the chance to process the damage done to them both. Separately they had both done speculating about whether they owed their relationship in some twisted way to Hoyt, but it had been a thought neither one wanted to dwell on. Was it worth processing now?

Jane tenderly stroked the mostly-faded scar on Maura's neck, the cut that had broken Jane free from her chains of restraint that night. "You must've been terrified."

Maura took Jane's hand by the wrist and kissed her palm, nodding.

"Rory's only the latest in a long line of men I've met who don't think twice about hurtin' women," Jane said. "But Hoyt was the worst, by far. He took it farther than anyone else. I felt insane, Maura, when I saw what he was doin' to ya. _Insane_. It was the most angry I'd ever been before in my life, that's the truth. I used to have nightmares all the time, just about every night. He was in 'em."

"You still get them, don't you?" Maura asked. There had been a few mornings where Jane was unusually subdued and sometimes a bit irritable when she woke up. She got taciturn and unpleasant when Maura tried to ask what was wrong. It didn't happen very often, but when it did, Maura noticed.

Jane nodded grimly. "Yeah, I still get 'em. But not so bad as I used to. Not hardly ever. I wake up and you're right there next to me, never leavin' me. And you don't need a gun or a fist to make me feel safe, y'know? You just have to be… you."

"A tall order, but I think I can pull through," Maura teased her, and Jane was grateful for the effort. "Jane, I don't like thinking about that night. Especially not now, when it's… it's in the past. You did what you had to, and you saved our lives. I was scared out of my mind, and I had no idea if we'd make it out all right, so I certainly couldn't go about contemplating an escape when it seemed so impossible. There was only one thing I could think of."

"What?" Jane asked breathlessly.

"How much I loved you. How much I knew I was _in love _with you."

It took her breath away a bit when Jane leaned over and hugged her, letting herself go completely and allowing her full weight to rest in Maura's arms. Maura kept one hand firm at Jane's back, the other wound tightly in her dark hair. From this position, she continued to speak.

"When we were going back to town, I remember wondering if I'd ever be able to go back to Wohaw Springs again. I wondered how I would recover from everything that had happened—and I don't mean physically, because I could tell the wounds would heal with time. That week you were gone was… awful, Jane. I hated it, I thought I could go mad from loneliness and fear."

A dry sob issued out of Jane, but when she tried to pull away, Maura tightened her grip, keeping the embrace.

"Don't apologize," she said. "It's in the past. The important thing now is that you came back …and what happened when you _did _come back. All of that just pushed Hoyt from my mind; it had to. It did. You cured me."

"We cured each other," Jane offered.

Now Maura was the one who pulled back, just enough to kiss Jane's wet, slightly swollen lips. There was more to be said, there was more she had meant to say, but Maura was again experiencing that strange sensation of words being caught in her throat. Anything else she had planned on explaining was gone from her mind. A new task quite literally lay before her: Jane leaned back on the bed, pulling Maura gently on top of her, relinquishing the dominant power she was typically so happy to take.

* * *

**A/N**: Feedback on this one would be particularly appreciated- comments, critiques, questions, whatever comes to mind. Thank you so much for continuing to read this story- it really is a passion of mine, and I seriously so enjoy the privilege of getting to share it with others.


	11. Secrets and Lies

**A/N**: Quite a long chapter here; hope that's cool. A lot of groundwork is being laid here, so bear with me. Hope it satisfies.

* * *

The next morning Maura woke up alone, entirely naked, in bed yet again. At least this time, Jane had left a note which only read "back yard." Maura sighed groggily and sat up a little, pulling the sheets over herself and bringing her knees up to her chest. She and Jane had gone on a bit longer than usual last night, yet Maura didn't feel quite as sore as she often did when they made love for so long. That is, she didn't feel sore in the same places she usually did—her shoulders and forearms ached a bit.

And suddenly, she remembered why.

When Jane had gotten back last night, she had surrendered so much.

Other than joking around, Maura had never really seriously considered the way they both took it for granted that Jane was the "man" in their relationship. Neither of them were men biologically speaking, of course, but of the two of them, Jane embodied more characteristics that were generally considered masculine. In fact, her feminine qualities would make a much shorter list, possibly comprising only of her well-cared-for teeth and proclivity towards waxing poetic. Although Maura made a little more money than Jane did, Jane worked much more often and in a much more dangerous field. She always came home last, and more often than not would entertain herself by putting her feet up on the table and whittling, sleeping, or cleaning her pistol while Maura read or sewed.

This dynamic almost always translated to the bedroom, also. If Jane wasn't going to be dominantly on top, she still wanted largely to dictate what happened from beneath Maura. They rarely exchanged actual words on the matter; rather, Jane would position them in such a way as to make perfectly clear what she wanted Maura to do. She never demanded anything, she was never forceful, and she acquiesced when Maura was too worn out or wanted things slower, gentler. But there was always a sense that while Maura was not devoid of a very active sexual appetite, Jane was the one in control. Things were done her way simply because Maura was happy to let it be so.

Everything was changing on this trip.

Though they'd yet to discuss it, both Jane and Maura realized none of their close friends in Hollow Creek were married: not Jane's brothers, Angela, Korsak, Frost, or even the long-gone Dr. Byron. Witnessing Rory's treatment of Charlotte and Mr. Hughes' disregard for his wife up close had been very jarring, especially for Jane, who was beginning to question whether she really wanted to consider herself Maura's husband anymore if this was the way men were supposed to treat their wives.

Their relationship was equal, she knew that. Neither of them considered themselves or the other to be the "head" of the household; duties were split up fairly and Maura fought for her point of view if Jane ever dismissed it without good reason (a rare occurrence, mostly happening when Jane returned from a particularly difficult day at work).

Jane didn't want Maura to ever be afraid of asking her for anything, of telling her anything, of giving her anything. Hell, she'd even spelled it out right to Maura their first night here. It was a good and noble thing to let their relationship shine out in the open, to show everyone how well they treated each other—but it was important also to make sure those same matters came across in the more private moments as well.

Last night had been the first time Jane had yielded entirely to Maura's tacit command in the bedroom. While there had been instances before of Maura leading their late-night activities, they had always ultimately reached an equal footing or Jane had been given her turn as well. This time was different. This time Jane wanted Maura—who was not as strong as Jane, who was more feminine, who was decidedly more the delicate Boston rose—to feel unquestionable authority in this regard.

Maura felt her pulse quicken and temperature rise as she recalled how particularly gratifying it had been to take Jane last night. Jane had been so compliant, had done and said all the things Maura always heard herself saying: whimpering for more, begging for greater pressure; curving herself upwards in unrestrained need, as opposed to waiting for Maura to bear down on her; hearing Jane moan Maura's name like it was the only word she knew; eliciting those sharp gasps of surprised pleasure instead of producing them herself…

In short, it was not the type of night Maura thought a person could just wake up from and go immediately into making conversation with her mother-in-law, which was essentially what she discovered Jane to be doing when she went downstairs.

Fortunately Maura was actually dressed this time (unlike yesterday, when she'd only bothered to put on a robe). When she went into the backyard, it was to see Jane and Constance talking over the short fence that separated them. Jane's disguise was already in place in the instance that someone else saw her, but she seemed relatively comfortable to be wearing it in Constance's presence.

Constance saw Maura first: "Good morning, dear," she offered, as her daughter walked closer.

Jane turned and smiled, holding out her arm and wrapping it around Maura's waist when she was close enough. "Hey, darlin'. How'd ya sleep?"

Maura raised her eyebrows, as if to say, _you should know_. Blushing lightly, she looked over at her mother and said, "What goes on here?"

"Well, I came out here for a little fresh air, and noticed Jane doing some reading in the yard," Constance said, adding, "Don't worry, we're quite alone," when she saw Maura's eyes dart nervously around at the sound of Jane's real name. "Anyway, I thought I would fill her in a bit on the conversation you and I had yesterday. She said you were rather scant on the details."

"Not my exact words," Jane chuckled.

"And?" Maura asked, though she wasn't sure which of them she was addressing.

Constance nodded. "And I have felt very soundly reassured that everything I had ever hoped my daughter would find in a man, she has already found in one Jane Clementine Rizzoli." She folded her hands in front of her, smiling when her daughter's tired face broke into a wide grin as she hugged Jane sideways. "I'm proud to have someone like her in the family," Constance continued. "You must forgive my initial confusion, Maura. This is not, after all, a sort of relationship a mother expects her daughter to take such passionate part in."

"I know," Maura conceded quickly.

"But as I already told you, if _I'd _done everything my mother expected of me…" _You wouldn't be here. _She let the sentence trail off, glad to see Maura grinning in understanding rather than drawing back in ladylike dismay as she might have in her younger years. "You two have a healthy store of courage, and for that, I must commend you. Would that I had access to it."

"You seem brave to me, Constance," Jane said.

"That's sweet of you, dear, but just goes to show what a short time and under what circumstances you have known me. I do not possess as much bravery as I appear to. Brazenness, loudness, rebelliousness, recklessness—all traits of mine, none of them particularly brave." An awkward pause followed this, and so rather than elaborate, Constance shook her head slightly and changed the subject. "So! What will you two be doing today?"

"Oh, I thought I might give Jane a real tour of Boston," Maura said. "We've not had much chance to look around, except for our carriage ride from the station to the house. Jane's been eager to get a better look since we made plans to come in the first place."

"Yes, well…you may want to bypass the prison on your grand tour," Constance said, giving them both a knowing look before turning back to the Hughes' house. "Enjoy your morning, girls; I'll leave you to it."

Once Constance was out of earshot, Maura gave Jane's arm a gentle tug. "Did you tell her about Rory?"

"Uh…actually, Charlotte did."

"What? When?"

"Well apparently, she came by her parents' house this morning," Jane explained, starting to lead the way back into the old Isles home. "And when Constance was the only one awake, they got to talkin', and Charlotte found she couldn't lie when Constance asked where her charmin' husband was."

Looking surprised that Charlotte had admitted this, Maura asked, "How much did she say?"

Jane shrugged, closing the back door behind Maura. "I don't think she told Constance all the details behind his arrest, but your mother's smart—she prob'ly picked up on 'em herself. Anyhow, she got the gist that I was behind it all, gettin' Rory in jail, I mean. That's when I reckon she saw me outside and came to talk."

"And you talked about the conversation she and I had yesterday," Maura said, reaching for Jane's stage mustache and gently pulling it off.

"Well, not at first," Jane said slowly, taking the mustache and tucking it into her shirt pocket. She led Maura over to the sofa in the sitting room, taking a seat next to her and reaching for her hands. A tentative smile was on her face, and Maura recognized it as the one Jane wore when she was trying to reign in abundant enthusiasm (admittedly an urge she did not subdue very often). Were it not, in fact, for that smile, Maura would have been a little worried by the seriousness of the atmosphere that had descended upon them. "You don't have to look so worried, Maura."

One of Maura's hands flew up to touch her face, as if to feel whether or not it was anxious. "Oh, I don't mean to. You just seem to be leaving me in suspense, is all."

"Right," Jane said, reaching to take back Maura's hand. "Well, it turns out when Charlotte and Constance were talkin', Charlotte was sayin' how she thought her boy really likes me."

"Oh Jane, he adores you," Maura said softly. Her heart swelled to see Jane's smile widen at hearing this, and she let herself hope that maybe this conversation would be going in a direction she had wanted to pursue with Jane for a while now.

Jane was likewise emboldened by Maura's encouragement. "Well, obviously your mother knows about the uh, reasons why you and I can't have kids of our own. And she said—she was thinkin' she thought that was a real shame, 'cause accordin' to Charlotte, I'm a right natural with kids. I ain't ever really given it much thought, 'cause I just didn't never count on havin' kids, y'know? I mean even before ya came into my life, I just didn't see it happenin'. But… Constance said ya told her how I was sort of adopted by Angela."

"I hope you don't mind I shared that with her."

"No, of course I don't! I just never really saw myself as the motherin' type, Maura, but I dunno. Constance made me think about it. She said she knew some kids who'd been adopted that she thought turned out pretty nice."

"She probably meant you," Maura said.

Jane grinned. "Maybe. Maura? Um… did ya ever see us maybe, um… I dunno, takin' in some orphans or somethin'? Raisin' 'em together? 'Cause if you'd be open to it, that's somethin' I'd really like to do with ya."

Maura had begun nodding before Jane even finished the thought, rendered speechless by the pure excitement bursting through her veins. She was unsurprised to feel tears streaming out of her eyes as she threw her arms around Jane's shoulders, embracing her as tightly as possible. Jane let out a hearty laugh and hugged her back, nuzzling a bit into Maura's neck, causing Maura to let a few weak laughs pass through her tears.

"Jane…" Maura pulled away to look Jane in the eye, chuckling again when she saw Jane was crying through her smile also. The sight of it was so emotional that it drove out from Maura's mind whatever she had wanted to say.

"Can I take that as a 'yes'?" Jane asked hoarsely, reaching out and using her thumb to stop the progress of one of Maura's tears.

"Oh heavens, yes!" Maura cried.

She brought her hands to Jane's face to pull in her for a quick kiss, but one kiss turned rapidly into two, then three, then four, then one which didn't seem to end for quite some time.

When they finally broke it off, Jane said, "I can't believe it took me so long to come around. I guess I ain't ever felt like much of an orphan, since Angela basically started bein' our Ma since I was about four. It felt natural for her to take over when Pop died, and besides …I was so wrapped up thinkin' about other things, I never really considered it."

"Of course," Maura said in an assuring voice, running her hands through Jane's hair.

"I could be the father, I guess," Jane said eagerly.

"Or we could both be mothers," Maura quietly suggested.

Jane's smile faltered a bit. "I reckon that's true," she mused. "Angela raised me without a man. But …I dunno …don't ya think maybe a kid would be confused?"

"About not having a mother and a father?" Maura asked, and Jane nodded. "Well, I—I suppose I would hope a child would be happy to have two mothers who loved him rather than no parents at all."

The nature of their relationship was no doubt something which would either have to come up or be hidden if they raised a child, but Jane pushed that thought aside to get back to the sheer happiness that had been established between them a few moments ago. "You're right," she said, leaning back into Maura's embrace. "He'll be damn lucky to have a mother like you."

"And a mother or father—or whatever you want to be—like you," Maura said back, kissing Jane's forehead.

"I'd be me, you understand," Jane said. "We'd raise him in our house in the Creek. No disguises with my son, all right?"

"Oh, so he'll be a boy, then?" Maura laughed.

"Absolutely!" Jane said, sitting straight. "And he'll be the roughest kid on the block, see? Won't nobody try messin' with Jane Rizzoli's boy, that's for sure."

"Oh, no?" Maura asked, looking amused.

"Hell nah! 'Cause he'll get himself a reputation, like his old man here," Jane said, jabbing a thumb in her direction and winking.

"Loud and crazy and violent?" Maura teased her, now tenderly smoothing out some of the tangles in Jane's hair. Thinking of a boy she'd grown up with who had been fairly introspective, she asked, "What if he's a quiet thing?"

Jane looked at Maura as though she were crazy. "A quiet boy?" she laughed, like the words "quiet" and "boy" were as incompatible as "art exhibit" and "fun."

"Yes, you know, like a loud girl," Maura said pointedly. That one stumped Jane, but she couldn't help frowning. "Maybe he'd be a boy who liked poetry and painting over horseback riding or shooting."

"Well," Jane sighed. "I guess that'd mean he'd be takin' after you, then! Just don't you baby him too much, Maura, all right?"

"Jane, were you disciplined much as a child? I mean, not just by the teacher you made you write lines, but… by your father? Angela?"

Again, Jane looked surprised by the question. "Of course," she said. "I was a holy terror. And Miss Dolores did more than make me do lines, y'know. If you were disobedient in class, it was a belt to the backside for boys, and a ruler to the palm for the girls," she said, holding out her hands for emphasis. "And if Pop ever wanted to punish us, he'd make us eat nothin' but grits for a day or two. If it was somethin' _real _bad we did, we'd have to kneel on 'em for a little while."

"On what, the grits?" Maura gasped. Having never broken a rule as a child, she had never been reprimanded verbally or physically, and thus could not fathom the casualness with which Jane discussed her punishments.

"Mm-hm," Jane said lightly. "And y'know, Angela wasn't too shy about doin' stuff like that neither when we got outta line after Pop died." With a reminiscent laugh, she said, "I can't count the number of times she'd drag Tommy behind the bar by his ear, or give me a good slap on the head when I deserved it."

"You deserved it?" Maura snorted.

"Aw, sure. I took Pop seriously 'cause _he _took it seriously when I took a wrong turn. He made it clear when I crossed a line, and I made sure never to do it again—at least, not in the same way," she added with a crooked smile. "But don't worry, Maura. If our boy ever got himself into trouble—which he won't, if he's smart like you—I'll be careful with him."

"And what if we found ourselves with a little girl?" Maura asked. Jane had to smile at the barely-confined thrill in Maura's voice at this prospect. "I'd love to have a little ragamuffin like you, Jane. I'd teach her to shoot an arrow, and sew a cross-stitch, and look for the stars… and I'd find her the prettiest dresses to wear, maybe with some matching bows!"

"God help that ragamuffin!" Jane laughed.

"You wouldn't mind having a girl, would you, Jane?"

"Ya crazy? I'd love one! Hell, I'd love two. Three."

"Four?"

"Ten, as long as you were there to help me!" Jane joked. "And if any men came around askin' for their hand some day, I'd introduce 'em real proper to my firearm collection."

Maura laughed, already pitying the future boys Jane was sure to intimidate. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, dear," she chuckled. There was nothing quite like kissing Jane Rizzoli's smile, and Maura sat up a little during the course of their kiss, lifting herself with Jane's help onto the other woman's lap. "Oh, Jane," she breathed between kisses, her fingers tracing Jane's face. "I wish I could have a baby with you."

Jane held on a little tighter, recognizing the emotion in Maura's voice. She would give anything to keep their bubble of happiness from bursting; to keep Maura from being depressed at the thought of not giving birth to a child herself, a child who would have her and Jane's blood coursing through him.

"Hey, hey," Jane whispered, looking into Maura's eyes and feeling her tremble. "What'd I say, huh? What'd your mother say? Maura, I know what you mean—I wish like hell that I could do that for ya, that I could hold your hand and wipe the sweat from your brow and be there for ya when our baby came out of ya. But just 'cause we can't don't mean we ain't gonna be real parents. I mean no disrespect to the woman who gave birth to me, but Angela is my mother. I ain't ever felt otherwise. You and me, we're gonna find us a kid or two who's lost and lookin' for someone to love him."

"I," Maura said thickly.

"What?"

"You and _I_, not you and _me_. Honestly, Jane, haven't I taught you anything?"

They shared a small chuckle, and Jane trailed her thumb over Maura's chin. "That's my girl."

It was another quarter of an hour before they both deemed themselves presentable for the outside world, and off they set for a legitimate tour of Boston. Maura was glad the discussion about children had come naturally, and that she hadn't had to push anything on Jane before she was ready. Neither had put in any sort of request for a timeline, but that didn't matter to Maura at the moment: all that mattered was that it was going to happen at some point—Jane was determined, and determination always drove her to action. Point being, Jane would have been happy to walk around Boston with Maura as it was, but after the conversation they had just had, she now felt as though she was walking on air.

Maura turned out to be a spectacular guide, as her father had seen to it that she was acutely aware of Boston's importance in the beginnings of American history, and she showed Jane all the sites. Many were home to events that Jane had never heard of or only knew the most rudimentary things about, and Maura was thrilled to describe them to her. As they strolled down streets, through parks, and alongside a river, Jane imagined Maura's beloved Little Women walking right with them. She wondered if Maura had ever pretended those girls were her sisters or her friends during her lonely childhood.

The residents of Boston were just as fascinated by Jane as she was by the lush landscape. She and Maura ran into quite a few old acquaintances, none of whom were rude enough to inquire about what all had happened with Garrett Fairfield but all of whom burned with curiosity about more details. Maura was sure gossip would be exchanged among many of them, but she hardly cared about trivial things like that anymore. Mostly she was pleased that Jane made such a good impression on them, although she could have done without the swoony looks no woman seemed able to resist throwing at Jake Rizzoli.

"Are you homesick for the West, old boy?" asked one of Maura's former tutors, Ezekiel Parker, giving Jane a congenial elbow nudge.

"A bit, sir, I admit."

"Well! This ought to interest you, then!" laughed Ezekiel, whipping some sort of brochure out of his inner coat pocket and handing it to Jane with a great flourish. "I'll be going there myself—it's opening day today! In fact, I was just on my way to get on queue and ensure a good seat. Perhaps I'll see you there!"

As he was already shuffling down the street, Maura said, "Perhaps you will," and waved after him before turning to the pamphlet with Jane. "What is this?"

"One of them touring Wild West shows," Jane said. "Frost and I've seen a couple of Buffalo Bill's. I guess this is some guy tryin' to cadge a little of Bill's fame."

Her tone was vaguely annoyed, leading Maura to assume, "I take it that means you don't want to go." When Jane shrugged, Maura opened the brochure and said, "But Jane, how could you resist? 'Scintillating Scrapes with Savages!' 'Brawny Buckos Brave Bucking Broncos!' 'The Vivacious Vixen Valerie!'"

"Ooh, she's pretty," Jane murmured, bringing the pamphlet closer to her eyes before grinning at Maura's jaw drop. "Ha! I got that tic in your forehead goin'!"

"Oh, shut your mouth," Maura said, grabbing back the pamphlet. Staring disdainfully at Valerie's picture, she said, "Not much of a lady, is she?"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"She doesn't sound anything like the lady sharpshooter Frost was telling me about. That Annie Oakley?"

"So?"

"So it means maybe _you_ ought to hang up your badge and go around touring Wild West shows," Maura teased her, sticking the pamphlet into Jane's coat pocket. "Think of the fame, the glory!"

"Think of the hundreds of adoring fans," Jane added.

"Hmm…never mind."

Jane's grin widened. "Jealousy really _does _suit you, Dr. _Rizzoli_." She was about to add more, then noticed the Chief of Police on the other side of the street, chatting someone up. "Maura, look over there. It's the head policeman." They had overheard absolutely no gossip about Rory Graham being in jail, which was impressive yet, and Jane wanted to thank the man she presumed was responsible for keeping a tight lid on things. "I'll be right back."

"I'll be here," Maura said with a shrug, deciding not to go along.

She was not left alone very long: "Excuse me."

Maura turned at the sound of a plaintive feminine voice. "Yes?" Her jaw nearly dropped again when she saw that she seemed to be face-to-face with the woman whose picture she had just frowned at in the Wild West brochure. "Wh—are you—?"

"The vivacious Valerie?" the woman asked, rolling her eyes. "Yes, that's me."

Valerie was a little darker than her photograph let on, and she was also even prettier than it had led Maura to believe. It was an unconventional sort of beauty, like Jane's: her features were sharp and a little rough, her hair long and dark. She even dressed like a Westerner, wearing a shirt and vest that wouldn't have looked out of place on Jane and a split skirt like the one Adelaide had made for Maura. But she had the cleanliness and presence of a performer, minus the smile. She didn't appear to happy at the moment.

"Pardon my overhearing, but did that man call you a doctor just now?" Valerie asked, gesturing towards Jane, whose back was to them as she talked to the Chief of Police across the street.

"He did, yes. I'm a doctor."

"Impressive. I suppose that means you're important around here, in which case you might be able to point me to a tradesman who could help me with my wagon?"

"What's the matter with it?"

"One of the wheels has broken off. I've got another in the back, but my unhelpful assistants have gone on ahead of me and I don't know how to fix it myself."

Maura could tell this fact bothered Valerie. "Well if you'd like, I could fix it for you."

Valerie's eyebrows rose in surprised. "A lady like you?"

"Certainly. I've had to change a few wagon wheels in my, er, _recent _time. It's a skillful thing to know, in case you were to get stranded or some such thing. I would just have to drop by home and change into something a little more work appropriate."

"That's kind of you, Dr. …?"

"I—uh, Rizzoli. Maura Rizzoli."

"Nice to meet you, Dr. Rizzoli," Valerie said, shaking her hand. "But I haven't really the time to wait for you to go home and get back. My show starts in half an hour."

"Oh. Well, I haven't been in Boston for a while, but I believe you could find someone to help you fairly close to here, on the Post Road. Just take a left two blocks down."

"Thank you, Dr. Rizzoli."

"Not at all."

"Indulge me in my curiosity, if you will, ma'am. If you've not been in Boston for some time, where have your travels taken you?"

"Oh, I settled in Arizona last year," Maura said cheerfully. She nodded in Jane's general direction. "That's where I met my husband, actually."

"You don't say. I'm from Wyoming, myself. Ever been?"

"I'm afraid I haven't."

"I recommend it. It's a fine territory," Valerie said flatly. "Incidentally, I believe our show will be going through Arizona at some point. Keep an eye out for us there."

"We certainly will! Good luck with your wagon, and with your show today!"

"Thank you, Dr. Rizzoli." Valerie was about to walk away, then changed her mind and took a step closer to Maura. Her tone had been so distant before that Maura was almost startled by the sudden proximity, but Valerie didn't seem to notice. "Incidentally, ma'am," she whispered, "I believe the man on the corner diagonal from us, the one wearing a green suit and brown hat, has been watching you. Tell your husband."

With that somewhat unnerving goodbye, Valerie walked nonchalantly down the street without another word. Almost as soon as she had gone, Jane took her place, happily preparing to tell Maura that the Police Chief had promised continued discretion among his men. But she was a little distracted by the look of concern on Maura's face.

"Sweetheart, what is it?"

Maura looked around Jane to see if she could find the man in the green suit, but there was nobody fitting the description Valerie had given her. Had it been a joke? A fluke, a mistake? She wavered on not saying anything, but knew she her silence had gone on too long for Jane to be assuaged by anything less than the truth: "I was just …a woman stopped by me to say she thought a man had been watching me."

All amusement dropped from Jane's expression. "A man? Where? What kind of look was he givin' ya?"

"She just said it was a man in a green suit and brown hat," Maura said, pointing to the corner Valerie had indicated. "Over there. But he must be gone now, if he was there at all," she added when Jane whirled around to look.

"You stay right here," Jane said, and she hurried back across the street and down to the corner. Maura fidgeted nervously as she saw Jane disappear around it, no doubt searching in every shop down the side street. There were crowds and people all around; Maura knew she ought to feel safe, but Valerie's sudden warning had left her ill at ease. All in all, she felt relief wash over her when Jane came back into view.

"Let's go home," she said shortly, taking Maura's arm and starting to walk at a fast clip.

"Did you see him?" Maura asked.

"No."

"Well—Jane, there are a lot of people in Boston, you know. She might've been wrong, she might not have seen properly. He could easily have been looking at the large store sign over my head!"

"That's a possibility, but as I don't have this woman who saw him to interrogate myself, I don't wanna take a chance," Jane said brusquely, not releasing Maura's arm.

"Good heavens, Jane, what're you afraid of? I don't have any _enemies _here!"

"You're a beautiful woman who was standin' alone when this guy was lookn' at ya," Jane said. "That's reason enough for me to be anxious about your safety, and I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't question me further about it."

"Well _I'd _appreciate it if you gave me my arm back," Maura said, stopping and pulling herself out of Jane's grip—or trying to.

Jane hung back as well, relenting and releasing Maura's arm. "I'm sorry," she said in a quiet voice. "I didn't mean to talk to ya like that, Maura. I just… I just didn't want …I mean, I trust ya. I just wanna keep an eye out for ya, okay? That's how the law works. We hear about a threat, we check it out, and we treat it serious."

"I understand," Maura said softly. Lifting her chin, she gently hooked her arm through Jane's and said with fake pompousness, "You may take me home."

"As you wish."

Upon reaching the old Isles yard, Jane asked if Maura wanted to do a sweep of the house now. The instigator of their trip had, after all, been the fact that the house was on the verge of being sold and Maura needed to go through it one last time. Surprisingly the first place she wanted to look was her father's study, filled with none of her old possessions. Countless books and maps had collected dust for nearly a year, as had his desk and chair.

"Nice space," Jane said admiringly.

"You should see if there are any cigars left in his drawer," Maura said. "The top one." Jane went to open it, but it was locked. Hearing this, Maura said, "Sorry; the one on the right."

"What's in here?" Jane asked, jostling the left drawer.

Maura came over to look. "I don't know. I tried opening it before I left, but I couldn't. I looked for a key, but it wasn't where he kept all the others. It'd be small and bronze, wouldn't it? None of the other drawers have locks, and all the door locks are silver."

"My, my, you've searched pretty thoroughly."

Maura shrugged sadly. "I want to know what's inside."

"How badly?" Jane asked, straightening up and flicking out a small knife. Maura's eyes widened at the unexpectedness of it, but after her gaze had lingered upon it a few moments, she granted Jane a small nod of approval. "Don't worry, I won't mess with the lock too bad," she said reassuringly, crouching again and sticking the knife into the lock. Only half a minute of patient prodding went by before a "click" was heard, and Jane slid the drawer open.

Maura's hand dove inside before Jane could even stand up, and she held in her hand the drawer's solitary object. "It's for me," Maura said blankly, staring at the folded piece of paper. "It says… '_For my daughter Maura on the event of my passing.'_"

"You reckon it's a will?" Jane guessed.

"I've seen his will," Maura said. "Although this could be a draft…" She unfolded the paper and gasped softly. "It's a letter." Darkness had started to fall outside, and Maura lit a candle on the desk before beginning to read. "'_To my beloved Maura.' _It's dated a year before he passed away."

"Ya don't have to share it with me if you want to read it first," Jane said, taking a step back.

But Maura beckoned her closer, and read, "_If you are seeing this, my soul has departed from Earth and has hopefully arrived in heaven, where it shall be perfected.' _Jane…" She reached out and gripped Jane's arm tightly for support, already shaking. "_'For years I have tormented over whether to share with you the contents of this letter, but have finally devised a plan—admittedly a cowardly one—for this information to eventually be passed onto you once I have died. It is your right to know, and I would be a poor father for keeping it from you._

_ "'Firstly, you must know how entirely I love you. Since the day you came into my life, I have had new reasons to live and to get up in the morning. There is no question that you have been the most important and cherished being I have had the honor of knowing in my entire existence. You have blessed the lives of so many through your intelligence, your elegance, and your talents. I am one such blessed person. Your life gave me hope when I felt dejected or depressed. You have kept me going through the roughest patches of my life, which you most likely never even noticed because you have always been such a happy child. There is no sum I would not pay for your happiness._

_ "'But, as I always told you, honesty is a virtue_.' That's true; he did tell me that, often," Maura said, looking up at Jane with weak eyes. "It's why I can't tell lies."

She got nothing in return but a squeeze on her own arm, Jane's way of telling her she understood that this was just Maura's way of trying to put off the inevitable: a shoe was about to drop somewhere.

_"'Maura, I cannot stress this enough. I adore you and when the day must come that you pass on as well, I will proudly proclaim to God that you are my daughter. But you are not my daughter by birth.'_"

"What?" Jane breathed.

Maura's mouth hung open as she continued to read, but not aloud. It was not a conscious decision; she simply couldn't be bothered to say the words when it was so much faster, so much easier to run them through her mind. She still held the note out, enough so that Jane could read as well, but Desmond Isles' cursive was difficult to read, making what was normally a hard task for Jane even more problematic. Maura had enough time to read the letter three times before Jane had finished the rest of it once, Maura sobbing in disbelief throughout.

_ 'As you know, your mother has always been a bit of an independent spirit. You take after her in that regard, whether you realize it or not—only where Constance flew in the face of propriety and was happy to do so, you always bent your ways towards elegance and grace. You are unique, like she._

_ 'I have been in love with her since I was a boy. Our families attended church together, and I thought she was the most gorgeous creature I had ever seen, even when we were children. As a teenager I was infatuated, and would write her when she studied in Europe. She wrote faithfully, kindly, back, probably pitying me. When she returned as a properly educated lady, her mother wanted her to get married. They believed I was a perfect choice, and I was quite given to agreeing with them. Constance was less convinced. _

_ 'She told me of all she had seen and done in Europe, how she yearned to go back and stay. I asked if she had fallen in love there, and she said, 'no, not there.' Foolishly I took that to mean she had fallen in love with me, back in Boston, but that was untrue. My naïveté is defensible only in that she had asked me to marry her in Paris, to live with her there. But I never could. I am an American through and through, and must live here. I was open to her being a free spirit, but she would have to stay here, with me. She argued somewhat convincingly that being free-willed in Paris had been difficult enough; that she couldn't envision staying back in Puritan Boston._

_ 'I did not see her for a couple of months after that, and when I did, she told me she was expecting a child. Not another soul knew. Of all people, she had trusted __me__ with this information, and asked what she ought to do. My love for her blinded me to the seriousness of her sin, and I offered to marry her that night with no questions asked. She was young and suddenly afraid. I married her that night before she could change her mind. I was determined to provide for her and the baby, and raise that child as my own._

_ 'As I am sure you have guessed, that child was you—my dear, sweet Maura, without whom I cannot fathom how my life would have played out. You were only four years of age when your mother announced her intention to live again in Paris, and rather than begging her to stay, I begged her to leave you with me. Do not hate your mother for abiding by my one last desperate wish. She felt unfit to raise you properly, and felt confident that I would do a more efficient job._

_ 'Have I done all right, Maura? Have I done right by you? I hope so. I heard some people believed I had asked her to leave you with me only so I would at least have some part of her in Boston, but that is not true. I asked her to leave you with me because I considered you my own. You are my daughter, and not even the jaws of hell itself could have kept me from you. _

_ 'Your mother never intended for me to tell you of your true origins, but how could I forever keep a secret of this magnitude from one I consider my own flesh and blood? We agreed that you should receive this letter upon my passing, because my mortal flesh could not be strong enough to see what I'm sure would be the pain and betrayal in your eyes. _

_ 'I love you, I do. You are the greatest daughter a man could ask for, and although it may sound strange, I thanked God every day for giving me the privilege of raising you. You have grown into a fine woman, Maura, and words cannot express how proud I am of you. I never learned for certain the identity of your true father, but I hope you will not forget me or despise me. That would break my heart, even in death, for you are the one who showed me how to find each cloud's silver lining. Please, child, find this one's. It is my final request.'_

When Jane finally finished it, she looked up at Maura, and Maura allowed the letter to fall to the floor. Jane wrapped her arms around the smaller woman, and Maura clung to her embrace, chest heaving with wracking sobs. This went on for some time before Jane got up the courage to speak.

"Maura…Maura, please, say somethin'."

"C…coward!" Maura gasped.

Jane wrenched herself away, keeping her hands on Maura's arms. "What?"

"Coward!"

"Are you callin' that man a coward?" Jane asked seriously.

"H-he couldn't tell me when he was alive! Why tell me a-at all?"

"Dammit, Maura, I don't know," Jane groaned. "But that ain't the point, is it? He loved ya, and he wanted ya to—"

"I don't know who my father is!" Maura sobbed, and the pathetic sight of her crying kept Jane from being able to feel like she had a leg to stand on. "I'm ill—I'm illegitimate!"

It suddenly occurred to Jane: "Maura—your mother is stayin' right next door. You want me to get her? You want me to drag her over here to explain all this?"

The moment she perceived a weak nod, Jane was gone from the room and out the front door. She stopped herself for an attempt at a steadying breath on the porch before she stalked across the yard to the Hughes' house. It was even darker still and Jane had no idea what time it was, but she didn't care; nothing was going to keep her from getting a sound explanation for Maura. With a bit more force than was probably necessary, rapped the Hughes' large front door knocker.

Jane felt like waited an hour before a very tired Mr. Hughes opened the door. Apparently the butler was already in his quarters. "Jake?"

"Mr. Hughes, sir, I know it's late—but is Constance here?"

Blinking, Mr. Hughes looked at Jane as though she were a mirage. Finally, he sighed heavily and pulled an envelope out of his pocket. "Constance is gone for the night. She said to give you or Maura this if you came by."

Ignoring the envelope, Jane asked, "Gone? Gone where?"

"Mind your tone, boy. I don't know where she's gone. She just asked us to give this to you." Jane grimaced and grabbed the envelope from his hands, ripping it open. Mr. Hughes tried and failed to see inside it. "Well?" he asked. "What is it?"

"A message." Jane dumped out the envelope's content into her free palm: a single small, bronze key. "She was right. She ain't so brave as I thought."


	12. Only Fools Are Satisfied

Without another word to Mr. Hughes, Jane slipped the key into her pocket and walked back to the Isles home. She hadn't fumed like this in a while, and tried to calm herself down before returning inside the house. Confusion, pain, and betrayal were all hurtling through her lightning speed, and the thought that Maura must have felt this a hundredfold was the only thing that made Jane finally go back in without gearing up. Now she was faced with the unhappy prospect of telling Maura that Constance had apparently skipped town without leaving notice of her whereabouts.

Jane sighed as she entered the old Isles house, retracing her footsteps back to the study. But when she got there, she found it was empty and dark.

"Maura?"

The sitting room had also been unoccupied, and although Jane's next idea would have been to see if Maura had gone to her bedroom, her deputy senses finally kicked in after a few seconds: there'd been a struggle here.

Maura had been forcibly removed from this room.

The candlelight had gotten very low, but now that Jane's eyes had re-adjusted to the semi-darkness, she could see it: the desk was turned at more of an angle than before, and a pile of papers that had been carefully stacked on top of it was in near disarray, a couple of sheets on the floor; and even the tall-backed blue chair next to the desk appeared to have moved slightly, as if it had been hit by an errant kick. With that, Jane could visualize everything—Maura alone in the room crying, her back to the door, when suddenly she found herself being grabbed. In the old days she may have fallen limp from fear, but being with Jane had taught her not to go down without a fight. Yes, there was even a scuff mark on the chair that had probably been left by the heel on one of Maura's shoes.

What Jane couldn't tell was whether Maura was conscious when she was finally taken.

Jane ran back out into the house, gun drawn, wishing like hell that she had Frost or Korsak with her. There were no signs of a struggle anywhere else on the ground floor, although to be fair, the furniture was much more spaced out here than it had been in the study. In case there was still a chance Maura was being held or, God forbid, assaulted in one of the other rooms, Jane checked them all. There was a small chance that her reentry into the home had gone unnoticed, and as such, she didn't want to risk calling out for Maura. It was a difficult urge to suppress: Jane could almost taste Maura's name bursting to come out of her mouth at a high, desperate volume.

She nudged open the door to each room and closet, ready to shoot a bullet at a moment's notice. It was all for naught as Jane finally had to conclude that Maura was no longer in the house. In desperation she ran out to the backyard she had gotten so well-acquainted with the past two mornings, raking it over on foot and with eyes and ears long accustomed to searching out figures in the dark. Again, nothing.

Now that she had done a safe and thorough search of the property, Jane could practically feel the forced calm, restraint being lifted from her as it all sank in: she was in a strange city. Alone. No back-up. Maura was kidnapped. Jane rushed back around to the front of the house but had to stop, leaning against the outer wall as she struggled to breathe and tell herself this was really happening—_Maura had been taken_.

By who? Why? Where was she?

Jane thought of the warning Maura had received earlier that day, of a man in a green suit and brown hat who'd been allegedly watching her. Who was he? The name Patrick Doyle flew across Jane's mind, but before she could dismiss that notion entirely, she remembered more: both she and Maura had felt fairly positive it had been Doyle who'd approached her at the cemetery. Patrick Doyle, a ruthless criminal, had stopped in plain sight to talk to a woman whose father had treated him once or twice.

Why would he do that?

And why had Constance taken off tonight, leaving no word, when they had all been getting along so well? Why had she come to Boston in the first place, without telling Maura, and without ever giving them a specific reason?

Jane had been about to jump off the porch before another thought occurred to her, and she stopped at the railing. _What if Doyle is Maura's father? _No, no—that was far too much of a leap. Maura had always hated when Jane leapt to conclusions, and Jane had to admit to herself that she really had nothing to go on but the most circumstantial of evidence.

One thing was for sure: she couldn't just stand here.

She ran across the street to Jesse and Emily's house, fully expecting a servant to answer the door. Instead she got Jesse, who was already in a robe and pajamas. He was understandably quite confused to see Jake Rizzoli on his doorstep at such an hour. "Jake! What's—?"

"Jesse, I ain't got time to talk," Jane cut him off, breathing shallowly not from lack of air but from nerves. Fear was stabbing at her lungs and her chest with each passing second like a pincushion, and she had to actively work to keep out the mental images of the many ways Maura could be in danger at this very moment. "Maura's been kidnapped."

Tired eyes widened in disbelief. "W—what?"

"She's been taken right from the house," Jane said shortly. "I was at the Hughes for just—I was only gone a minute, I swear, and she's been kidnapped."

"How do you know she's not just off some place?"

"Trust me, Jesse, the conversation we were havin'—she wouldn't have just up and left. Besides, I could see it, signs of a struggle. Don't question me."

"Well what can I do?"

He sounded timid and unsure, but sincere in his desire to help. Admittedly he may not have been the most desirable back-up, but he was the only sure ally Jane knew she had close by. "Get me the fastest horse you've got and meet me at the police's station."

And without another word, Calamity Jane took off flying.

Jesse wondered why anyone who could run like that would even need a horse.

Most people might have had difficulty traversing a town in the dark when they had not even been there three days, but Deputy Rizzoli wasn't most people. She could easily have gone with Jesse to borrow his horse, or waited for him to bring out to here. But that would have necessitated waiting, and even if it was only for one minute or ten, not a second could be wasted here. Not when Maura's safety hung in the balance. The problem was that if Jane's memory served correctly, the police station was quite far away, but she pushed that thought to the back of her mind. The only thing that mattered was that she was doing what she could to get there.

Miraculously, her lungs did not give out. Though she had been running at full speed for several blocks, she did not find herself gasping for breath. She might have had wings.

About halfway through town, Jesse (still in his robe and pajamas) finally caught up on horseback. To Jane's surprise, Rory's problematic horse Strider was the one following him. Jesse had planned on explaining that he'd taken so long because he kept his horses at Rory's ranch, and Strider had been surprisingly easy to coax along—but Jane didn't give him time to talk. He had expected a moment for dialogue while Jane saddled up, but she swiftly leapt on top of the horse and urged him forward immediately. Too impressed to be offended, Jesse did his best to keep up.

What kept Jane from taking a moment's rest was the thought that no matter how scared she was, Maura had to be feeling that terror tenfold.

And she was.

Not moments after Jane had left to get Constance, Maura had found herself wondering if that was such a good idea. She heard footsteps and thought perhaps Jane had had misgivings as well, only when she turned around, it was to see a man in a green suit walking purposefully towards her. Maura did not even have time to scream before he stepped close enough to hold a thick, grimy hand over her mouth and place the other at her hip, dragging her away. He was surprised when she put up a fight, kicking and trying vainly to wrench herself out of his grip.

Lightly they stepped out into the dark yard, and Maura recognized he was taking her straight through the tiny wooded path which led to a road on the other side—a path Maura had always believed nobody knew about but her, as she had never seen anyone else use it. She tried again to twist herself free, but the man's grip only tightened, and his hand muffled her cries for help.

They reached the clearing for the road, and her captor barked at a man leaning against an old carriage: "Jesus, get me the rope!"

"Well, she's a feisty one, isn't she, Reilly?" asked the other man, grabbing a rope and hurrying over to tie Maura's wrists together. "Keep still!" he ordered, now trying to tie a blindfold around Maura's head. She was making this job much more difficult than they had anticipated; they had been told they were snatching a lady. Shouldn't she have known struggling would be futile?

Reilly had finally had enough. With one hand still held firmly over Maura's mouth, he pulled out his revolver and stuck it to her neck. "Listen, you. You're only making this hard on yourself. Let us put this blindfold on you, and we won't hurt you. Understand? And stay quiet, too. If you make so much as a whisper, I'll blow your head off. Got it?" He took no further action until he felt her nod. "Good."

Reilly's assistant hastily applied the blindfold, and Maura felt herself being lifted into the carriage. For extra precaution, Reilly twisted a handkerchief tight and tied it around her head as well, making an effective gag. It was hard to do, as the carriage kept bouncing on the roughest road Maura had ever been on in Boston—she had no idea where they were going, and doubted very much that she'd have been able to tell even without the blindfold. Every time the carriage shook, she felt her heart jump as though she might go tumbling onto the road. She was too shocked and afraid for tears, and her mind was a blank when it came to trying to figure out how to escape. What made this all the more frightening was having no idea why anyone would want to take her, and also knowing she had to have been an obvious target. There was no way it was a coincidence that this man had come in when she was alone.

It was at least another fifteen minutes before the carriage finally came to a stop, and the doors were flown open.

A harsh voice asked, "Why's she been gagged? Why're her hands tied up?"

"She put up a real fight, boss, Jesus Chr—"

"_Don't _you take that name in vain in front of a lady!" came the harsh voice again. Maura jumped when she felt someone take her hand, gently leading her out of the carriage. "A fighter, huh?" he mused, and with this lighter tone, Maura started thinking it sounded familiar somehow. "Guess maybe she's got a little of the old man in her, huh?"

Maura tensed at these words, and a gasp was able to escape her when the gag was cut. The blindfold was ripped off next, and she took an instinctive step back when she saw standing in front of her the man who had talked to her in the cemetery—Mr. Selsi, who had been visiting Collin Doyle's grave. Here, surrounded by a posse, two of whom had just kidnapped her.

"You're Patrick Doyle," she whispered. By way of response, he nodded once and stepped forward with a hand outstretched to untie the rope which still bound her wrists. But Maura vehemently stepped back, pulling her hands out of reach and hissing, "Don't touch me!"

Though the change in his expression was subtle, Maura recognized a hint of surprise in Doyle's features. With one more nod, he had cleared the room. Maura had been so surprised to see him that she had failed to even notice they were actually standing in a house; she supposed he must have pulled her in from a carriage that dropped her off right outside.

"I'm sorry," Doyle said gruffly. "But I couldn't risk going to see you again, and I had to talk to you."

"You couldn't send a note?" she asked. "You had to send men to watch my house—my _father's_ house—to know when I'd be alone, so they could _kidnap_ me?"

"Maura, _I'm_ your father," he said. "Now we don't have much time, and you need to listen—"

She veered away when he reached for her again, and even though his tone had been respectful, he had crossed a line in Maura's eyes. "No, _you _need to listen!" she cut him off loudly.

Although she had been stung by the confession that Desmond Isles had not been brave enough to make while he'd still been alive, Maura regretted having called him a coward right off the bat. Everything Doyle had just put her through caused an upswing in her loyalty and devotion to the man who had raised her, and Doyle's method of trying to talk to her had only confirmed her beliefs that he was not a good man. Besides that, she was still reeling from the fresh disclosure that the person she had grown up calling her father was not related to her by blood—and now came this, the revelation that had it not been for this murderer, she would not be on earth.

"You don't get to terrorize me!" she continued. "And you do not get to just—just grab me from my home and tell me something like that!" It wasn't true, it couldn't be true. "You are _not _my father!"

"I realize this is a lot to take in right now," he said, his patience infuriating. "But I'm the man who helped give you life, Maura."

"Desmond Isles is the man who made sure that life was worth something," Maura spat.

"Pretty smart, aren't you?" Doyle asked. "Of course you would be. I didn't count on you being quite so strong, though."

"You don't know everything about me," Maura snarled. Part of her wanted to tell him she had been wrung free of weakness after having already survived a kidnapping by a crazed killer, but that was not information she felt he deserved to know. She took another step back, and the vindictive look she was throwing Doyle hurt him more than any weapon ever had. "In fact, you don't know _any_thing about me," she added, her voice quieter but somehow more venomous than before.

Doyle looked at her long and hard, testing her resolve and her patience. "Come here," he said softly, walking around her and making sure to give her a wide berth as he headed towards another room. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure she was following him, and it seemed curiosity had gotten the best of her. Even with her hands tied and her life no doubt suddenly a mess of confused shambles, he was proud to see she still carried herself like a lady: head held high, shoulders square, gait measured.

When he nudged the adjoining door open, Maura felt her mouth drop slightly. Each wall in the room was covered by three or four portraits the same golden-haired girl, starting from a very young age to a relatively recent image. Most of the paintings were small, but each had been done impeccably. Maura recognized her mother's signature style in at least three of the portraits, including the newest one, and it took nearly no time at all to recognize the subject.

"That's me," she said softly, staring at the first painting.

"They're all you," Doyle said. "It helps that your mother has so many artists for friends."

And now she remembered. Hours and hours of her trips to Europe had been spent posing for portraits, some more boring than others. Maura had always wondered how it would feel to have her photograph taken, but Constance insisted a painting was much more accurate and full of emotion than a stone-cold, sober photograph.

How could a camera hope to capture the effortless smile on a six-year-old child as she laughed by a brook, trying to catch butterflies from where she was seated? How could anything but an artist's hand relay a ten-year-old's concentration on maintaining a perfect posture while struggling to get through Mozart piece she knew her mother loved? How could a piece of equipment illustrate anything but the most objective view, when parenting requires just the opposite? A photographer was not free to frame and design or focus as he would like. A painter could portray a close-up on the furrowed brow of a fifteen-year-old girl as she pored over medical texts; he could paint from a balcony above her as she lay in her favorite park at age eighteen, comfortably speaking French to her mother's cook, who had the day off. He could represent with utter clarity the torn and tattered copy of _Little Women _in her hands as she sat patiently but wearily for one last portrait at age twenty-three, a familiar smile on her face as she lost herself in the novel's version of home.

And then, of course, a painter could make up his own world. The last portrait had been done by Constance after she had seen Maura in Chicago, and it certainly had not been posed for. It was surreal, depicting Maura against a wide western sky, resplendent with sunlight shining through white rolling clouds. There was no ground in sight, only Maura leaping into the sky with her eyes closed, hands clasped behind the head that was thrown back, hair flowing, almost balletic.

Free.

"She sent these to you?" Maura whispered. Half of these pictures she had never seen, and the other half she had been shown only once upon their completion, never given a reason for why she was unable to see them again. All of these years, she had assumed they were left gathering dust in artists' basements in Europe, presumably (on her part) failures. "Why?"

"Because you're my daughter," Doyle answered simply.

Maura looked at him for some time before answering. "I already have a father," she said in a thick voice. "So I can't be your daughter." She waited for some kind of response, but never got one. He just stood there, stoic and unreadable as before. "Take these off, please," Maura finally requested quietly, holding out her hands.

Doyle obligingly came forward, pulling a knife from a sheath on his belt. Maura tensed when he took hold of one of her wrists, cutting through the ropes. Even though she was now free, she didn't pull out of his grip until he spoke:

"I'm sure you've heard stories about me," he said with a casual shrug. "And most of them are true."

"How—how can you just do that? Murder people on command?"

"I never touched anyone who didn't deserve to be hurt."

"According to who, to what? Your own twisted set of values? Your skewed perspective? I don't understand how you can live like that!"

"That's because you're different." His refusal to elaborate on his own was driving Maura further to the brink. He offered no more justification than, "I did what I was born to do."

"What you _chose _to do," Maura corrected him. "I married someone who used to be on the wrong side of the law." (What she failed to mention was that it was all an illusion; Jake Wyatt had always been an agent for authority, never letting his temper get out of hand unless he was fighting someone wanted by the law.) "He chose to reform himself for me."

Doyle smirked. "Maura, you're such a child. Men on the wrong side of the law don't change just for a pretty face. Once he gets whatever it is he wants from you, he'll leave you."

This was without question the most insulting thing anyone had ever said to her. It was offensive not only to her and Jane, but to the emotion their relationship shared, which was the most honest thing that had ever existed in Maura's world.

Doyle fully expected retribution of some kind, either harsh words or a slap, and he was prepared for either. He didn't anticipate Maura to give his chest a hard shove, so angry was she that a mere slap wouldn't do it. In his surprise, he stumbled back against the doorframe, and Maura pounded his chest with both fists before giving him the slap he was now too shocked to be able to dodge or stop.

"How do you dare?" she cried, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "How do you _dare _say something like that to me? You have my portraits, you probably even have letters from my mother, but you don't know a thing about me or Jake Rizzoli!"

"Rizzoli, huh? And what exactly made you choose him over Fairfield?"

"You don't get to interrogate me!" Maura shouted, and her voice was so loud Doyle was sure his men could hear her from outside. "O-or question me, or any of that! I'm the one who's had to grow up in the dark, so now it's _my_ turn to get some damn answers! What is it you wanted from my mother, Doyle? What did you want that made you leave as soon as you got it? Not a child, obviously!"

"That's different."

"It is _not _different! How could she go along with it? How could she let herself get so close to someone who has no remorse for the despicable things he's done?"

"She was young," Doyle said in a gravelly voice. "We both got carried away. I never promised her anything, Maura. If you were a boy, maybe I'd have fought more to keep you." He shrugged again. "Hell, maybe I'd have even married your mother. But there's no place for young girls in the world I live in, or the company I keep. Giving you up was for your own good."

"Is that how Collin got killed?" she asked, her tone acidic. "You thought a child was more suited to live in your world than me, based solely on his sex and not his age?"

"Collin is alive," Doyle said steadily. "That grave is fake."

Maura gaped at him. "H—why—?"

"I saw the way Desmond was with you."

"Don't call him that," Maura said sharply.

Doyle put his hands in his pockets, again casual, again looking as though he wanted to placate her because he found it amusing. "What shall I call him then, Maura?"

"You will call him Dr. Isles."

"My mistake. I thought that was you."

"You thought wrong. Continue."

Now that he was used to it, Doyle found Maura's confrontational attitude a pleasant surprise. He folded his arms and walked back out into the main room of the tiny house, knowing she would be right behind him. "I saw the way Dr. Isles acted with you. I'd never seen a man so at ease with a child before, so nurturing. He wanted you to be a lady, but not at the cost of ingratiating yourself to the Boston elite if that wasn't your wish. He let you go to France to visit your mother when he could have easily kept you from ever doing so. He gave you the chance to be who you wanted to be."

"You said he had operated on you before," Maura said abruptly. "That he saved your life. Is that true?"

"Yes."

"Did he know who you were?"

"Did he know I was Patrick Doyle, or did he know I was your father?" Doyle asked. Maura's expression clearly indicated she had intended the latter. "No, he never knew. From clues he picked up, I gather he knew your real father was no good. He wanted you to have nothing to do with people like me, and I' m glad he raised you that way."

"How are you raising Collin?"

"I'm not. He's with his mother and half-sister in Colorado," Doyle replied. "Before I ever saw Des—I mean, Dr. Isles—with you, I never would've given much thought to the idea of a man letting his children do what they would. I'm the way I am because that's how my father raised me. I would have raised Collin the same, because it's all I know."

Maura seemed a little more calm now. "Do you wish your father had brought you up differently?"

Another shrug. "All I can tell you is that I get enjoyment out of what I do. I don't regret most of the choices I've made. But maybe I could've been just as happy as a banker or a lawyer if I hadn't known any different. The point is, my world is a dangerous one. I didn't want Collin to have to live in it unless he chose to."

"Where in Colorado is he?"

A hint of the smirk was back. "Some place, Maura. I'm not telling you where, not yet. Now will you let _me_ have a turn with the questioning?"

She gave him a lofty stare. "Very well."

"Who's this Jake Rizzoli?"

Now it was Maura's turn to smirk. "Oh, you don't have to ask me that, Doyle. I'm sure you'll be meeting him any minute now."

Again impressed by the confidence in Maura's one, Doyle casually folded his arms. "I remember seeing him at the cemetery. Fancies himself a big man, eh?"

"I can promise you that Jake won't just be sitting around, waiting for someone else to take action. He'll come looking for me."

"He won't find you," Doyle snorted. "Not here. C'mon, Maura, I'll take you home."

"No," Maura protested, stepping back from him once again. "I still have one more question."

"Just one?"

"At the moment. Why now?" She pursed her lips when Doyle only stared at her. He knew what she meant but his silence made her feel like she needed to be more specific. "Why tell me now? Why couldn't you have left well enough alone?"

"There are a few reasons for that," Doyle said calmly. "First of all, Dr. Isles wanted you to know the whole story after he died. Constance thought it would be best to give you some time to fully grieve him before you learned everything, though. I've been away from Boston, Maura, never mind where. Anyhow I wrote to Constance telling her when I thought I would be here, because she wanted to discuss you in person. Whether you feel it or not, your mother loves you very much. And you're like her, you know. Independent. Smart."

"If she was so smart, what did she see in you?" Maura asked snidely.

Doyle nodded, acknowledging a potential good point. "She saw an escape. Women seek escape in different ways, Maura. You escaped by running out West, whether you thought it was an escape at first or not."

Maura chose not to respond to that comment. "And what are the other reasons?"

With a heavy sigh, Doyle told her to hold a moment. She remained surrounded by her own portraits as Doyle stepped outside for half a minute or so, speaking to some of his men. When he returned, the door closed with an audible snap. "Collin was threatened here."

"Collin? But he's just a boy."

"Yes, and you're just a woman. But that doesn't stop some of the snakes out here, Maura. Blood runs thick in our clans. We eat, drink, and breathe revenge. It doesn't matter that Collin was a child. He was _my _child, and that put him in danger. So I had him and his mother and her daughter move away before anything could happen to him. I don't want you hurt, either."

"But nobody knows we're—_I _didn't even know about … our relationship until tonight."

"And for the time being, it's still a secret. I didn't tell any of my men who exactly you were or why I wanted to see you, but they're not all as dumb as they look. I'm sure most of them have guessed by now, and you can't always see a rat until after he's squealed. Maura, don't ever come back to Boston. I don't care how tough you think your husband is. Don't come back. Something could happen to you."

"You mean I could get kidnapped?" Maura asked sarcastically.

Doyle did not look amused. "You could get killed," he said bluntly. This time when he stepped forward, Maura did not retreat. "Maura, I want to protect you—"

"Don't do me any favors," she said, holding up her hand. "I don't need your help. I can take care of myself. I'd like to go home now."

She was surprised at how sure of herself she sounded, so in control. Her head was still reeling from everything she had learned tonight, and she wasn't sure exactly how she would be able to cope when she _did _get home. But she was proud of herself for handling this as smoothly as she was, all things considered.

It was safe to say that Jane was in a somewhat different mood. As helpful as the chief of police had been before when she had needed someone to be on her side about Rory Graham, he wasn't assisting her very much now. He agreed to send out some men to look for Maura, but when Jane hesitated to name any suspects, he told her they couldn't really expect much success. Their best bet was to hope that someone would bring some information to them, but Jane was not one for sitting around.

"We should be out there looking for her!" she shouted. "My God, chief, do you care about the citizens in your town at all?"

"Of course I do!" the chief responded hotly. "But Deputy, you said yourself you have nothing to go on! What do you suggest we do?"

"You must know this land better than anyone—show me the bad spots in town, show me where the crooks are, show me anything! Just _do _something!"

Before the chief could offer an exasperated reply, one of his deputies addressed Jane. "Uh, sir? You said you could at least feel safe suspecting a man in a green suit, correct?"

"Yeah, and a brown hat," Jane said, hurrying over to the door, which the young deputy was peering out of purposefully.

The deputy pointed. "That him?"

Jane raced past a still-pajama-clad Jesse to cross the street, where Reilly, the only person out this late, did his best to appear charming and innocent. Once Jane got close enough and passed under a street lamp, Reilly was able to tell she fit Doyle's description of Maura's husband: mustachioed, tall and lean, long hair. Altogether, unintimidating.

"Ah, Mr. Rizzoli?"

The airiness in his tone was soon swallowed by a surprised yelp when two surprisingly strong hands lifted him by the collar of his jacket, and throwing him against the outer wall of the bank, keeping him pressed there. His feet weren't touching the ground, and he only dimly registered that not even Doyle on his darkest days could compete with the angry gleam in Rizzoli's eye.

"Where the hell is my wife?" Jane growled. She sounded almost more like an animal than a person, so far gone was any emotion in her voice.

"Your—uh—?"

"Don't you play dumb with me, you jackass sonuvabitch!" Jane snarled, pulling back only so she could slam Reilly harder against the wall. "Dr. Maura Isles, you were watching her earlier today, and then you snatched her out of her home the second I was gone!" When Reilly still didn't answer, Jane lowered her voice even more. "You've got ten seconds to tell me what I want to know, or I will end your life _right _now, without even havin' to reach for my gun."

But by now, the chief of police and his deputies had gotten over their shock and run across the street to stop the brutality. Reilly looked relieved to see them, begging for them to call off this wild man, but that was easier said than done. Two policemen tried pulling Jane off of Reilly, but she refused to budge, only loosening her grip when a gunshot went off.

All heads turned to the chief, who had just fired into the air. "Now that's enough!" he hollered. "Deputy Rizzoli, you're in my territory, now. I don't know how you settle things or apprehend suspects in the West, but we do _not _assault people here in the streets of Boston!"

"He's hidin' somethin' from me!" Jane shouted. Didn't they see this was the only way to get information from some people?

The Chief turned calmly to look at Reilly while his men finally succeeded in freeing the man from Jane's grip. "Is that so?" he asked. "Do you know anything that could help Deputy Rizzoli?"

Reilly straightened his tie. A firm "no" had been on the tip of his tongue before he caught sight of Deputy Rizzoli's expression and was struck with a sudden knowledge: no matter how implausible it seemed, Rizzoli would track Reilly down to the ends of the earth to learn what he wanted. "Your wife's missing?" he asked. "Maybe you're just paranoid. Maybe she's right at home."

To the others it seemed like a taunt, but to Jane, it was a message. She wordlessly ran back for Strider, who'd been hastily tied outside the police station, and she set out straight back for the Isles home. Somewhere in the back of her mind she was thinking it made sense that Rory Graham hadn't gotten the hang of this horse: he was wild, like her, and he was fast. He skirted effortlessly around any obstacle (living or not) that appeared in their way, never stopping for a second. They passed many carriages on their way back to the other side of town, but Jane's gut didn't tell her to stop any of them until they had actually reached the street parallel to the one Isles' house was on.

Doyle's driver yanked jerkily on the reins when an enormous horse appeared to be heading straight for his carriage. Normally he might have swerved, but the rider on this particular horse struck such a threatening image that he couldn't help but stop. The horse was midnight black, hard to discern from the night sky, and it had reared back on two legs to (successfully) scare the horses pulling Doyle's carriage. The rider was tall and his hair was long and wild, to say nothing of the fearsome look on his face when he got close enough for Doyle's driver to see properly.

"Who's in your carriage?" she asked darkly.

The question became unnecessary when one of the carriage doors opened, and Maura appeared inside of it. It was very nearly Jane's real name that tumbled in desperate relief from Maura's lips, but she was able to remember in time, leading to a desperate and drawn-out cry of "Jake!"

Jane instantly dismounted from Strider, numb disbelief at her luck flooding through her. She barely kept in a dry sob as Maura fell into her arms, shaking with nerves. Jane's grip was tighter than a vice as she wrapped her right arm around Maura's back and lifted her left hand up to grasp the back of Maura's head. They were together again, and Maura seemed physically unharmed—as far as Jane was concerned, this was a miracle on par with loaves and fishes.

"Thank God, Maura, I was so scared," Jane whispered, the strength of her embrace increasing noticeably. "I thought—God, I don't even know what I thought—are you okay?"

"I'll be all right," Maura said weakly. "I'm okay, I just…" She couldn't quite put into words how safe it made her feel to be in Jane's arms. She was only grateful that it was a feeling she wouldn't ever have to be without.

Only then did it dawn on Jane that the carriage hadn't yet pulled away. And not only that, but whoever was inside it was staring shamelessly at them through the door Maura had left open.

Patrick Doyle was not a man who was easily, if ever, rattled. But he would be a liar if he said he didn't feel at least a pinprick of discomfort when Jake Rizzoli's gaze first landed on him.

"Doyle."

"You don't sound surprised."

Jane's hands instinctively pressed Maura closer to her. "I thought it might be you."

"Well." Doyle waved upwards. "I was just taking Maura back home. Why don't we go for a ride, Mr. Rizzoli, and have a nice talk?"

* * *

**A/N**: Happy Labor Day, fellow Americans. And if you're interested, Constance's most recent portrait of Maura as described in this chapter was inspired by a photograph of the actress Eva Marie Saint which I've just posted to my tumblr for your viewing pleasure.


	13. Prove Yourself

**A/N**: So it was brought to my attention that Jane and Maura's relationship feels a little too easy in this follow-up, a little too smooth and perfect. I understand that, although most of this was intended to reflect that sort of honeymoon phase most relationships go through in the beginning. That said, the comment inspired me to rewrite the ending to this chapter.  
And by the way, keep an eye out for a reference to Blazing Saddles and South of Nowhere :)

* * *

The ride down the rest of the block was silent. Doyle sat on one side of the carriage, Jane and Maura on the other with their hands grasped tightly together. Jane knew that Doyle was watching them closely, but with Maura safe and sitting next to her, she wasn't intimidated. When the carriage rolled to a stop, all three of them knew they were now outside the Isles home, but nobody made a move to leave.

"Maura," Doyle said. "I'd like a word with your husband. Alone. It's time for you to get out now."

"Don't you tell her what to do," Jane muttered, reaching over Maura and opening the door.

Doyle didn't even bother trying to sound sincere. "Oh, I'm sorry. Is that your job, now?"

"The point is, it was never yours," Jane answered, getting to her feet and stepping over Maura to get out. Once on the ground, she held out her hand for Maura to take, assisting her out of the ramshackle carriage. When she spoke again, she addressed Doyle: "I'm takin' her to the neighbors' house so she won't be alone, and I'm gonna have a word with her before I do. You don't leave this spot till I return, Doyle."

"Mr. Rizzoli, I've got a schedule to keep."

"Fantastic. Keep an eye out for someone who gives a damn, and I'll be back in a minute."

With that, Jane took Maura's arm and started walking her towards the Hughes' house. While Maura supposed the tightness of Jane's grip could be attributed to Jane's relief at being reunited, she also couldn't help feeling like it was meant as a message to Doyle—a message of possession from a randy son being sent to a negligent yet somehow overbearing father-in-law.

"Jane," Maura whimpered.

The sound briefly jarred Jane out of her dark reverie, and her features smoothened of their own accord. "Maura? If you're about to try and talk me outta havin' a word with that guy, I'll tell ya now you'd be wastin' your breath." She stopped at the Hughes' front porch, turning Maura slightly so she could grip her other arm as well. "I know I don't have to beg ya for the truth, Maura. I know I just gotta ask, and you'll tell me. What happened?"

Maura opened her mouth, and genuinely as she wanted to answer Jane, no words came out. Fresh tears started to spring up, and for once, Jane did not try brushing them away.

"Did he come into the house when I left?" Jane pressed her, and Maura shook her head. Jane bristled. "Sent a henchman to do his dirty work, huh? Was it the man in the green suit?" When Maura nodded, Jane's face darkened. A partner was one thing, but having henchmen to do your bidding had always seemed like one of the lowest forms of cowardice to Jane. "Where'd he take ya, Maura?"

"I don't know," Maura said, her voice almost unrecognizably weak. "They blindfolded me, and when we got there, Doyle pulled me into the house or building or whatever it was before he took off the blindfold."

"What'd he say to ya?"

Maura had to brace herself to speak again. "He s—he's my father, Jane."

More tears followed, and Jane softened immediately at the sight of them, but these ones also she allowed to fall. Normally when Maura cried, Jane would at least attempt to dry those tears, but she knew it would be an utterly futile effort in this case.

"Maura, sweetheart, listen to me. Patrick Doyle is not your father, okay? He's not. Desmond Isles is your father. He is the one responsible for bringing you up to be the amazing person that you are. Not Doyle. He doesn't get to claim an honor like that, understand?"

It felt as though all of Maura's courage had seeped out of her suddenly and without reason, and she was trembling as she brought her hands up to rest on the lapels of Jane's coat. "Jane, p-please don't talk to him. Please stay with me, don't go."

Jane gave Maura a long, hard look before gently taking hold of her wrists and pulling Maura's hands away. "Sorry, Maura. I can't do that. I told ya before that if I found Doyle again, I was gonna talk to him whether you liked it or not. I don't mean no disrespect to ya—this is just the way it's gotta be. He didn't have no problem takin' ya out of your own house by force, and that's crossin' a line."

For the second time that night, Jane lifted the Hughes' heavy door knocker and banged it twice.

"Jane, please—"

"This ain't up for discussion, Maura."

Mr. Hughes opened the door, looking tired and heavily annoyed. "Really now, Rizzoli—"

"I know it's real late, sir," Jane said. "But I need y'all to keep an eye on Maura for minute, no questions asked. That's a neighborly thing to do, ain't it?"

Mrs. Hughes appeared over her husband's shoulder, candle in hand. Anne was there as well, both of them in nightdresses and robes, staying safely behind Mr. Hughes. "Why of course it's neighborly!" Mrs. Hughes replied, sounding tired but cheerful. "Is everything all right?"

Jane glanced at Maura. "It will be."

"Is my mother here?" Maura asked.

The smile on Mrs. Hughes' face fell. "I'm afraid not, dear. She took off quite hastily earlier this evening, but one of her bags is still here. I believe she intends to come back at some point, but I don't expect she'll be back tonight."

In the sudden discovery of Doyle, Jane had completely forgotten about Constance. The transparent heartbreak evident in Maura's countenance made Jane instantly regret that she had already knocked on the Hughes' door. With much more gentleness than she had exercised before, Jane led Maura a few steps away from the doorframe, lowering her voice to a whisper.

"Maura, I promise as soon as I'm done talkin' with this guy that I'll come right back, and we'll talk this whole thing out. But only if you want to. If you'd rather just cry, or read, or sleep, or do somethin' else, we'll do it. This ain't about me tryin' to show control over ya, all right? It's about havin' a word with a man who's a serious threat not only to this town but to you. Okay?"

After a long pause, Maura said, "You're giving me no other choice, are you?"

"You're safe now. I'm just gonna have a word with Doyle to make sure you stay that way."

Without thinking, Jane leaned down for a quick kiss. It was chaste and brief, yet still caused Mrs. Hughes to gasp quietly in surprise and for Anne to go weak at the knees. Not noticing their reactions, Jane brought Maura back to the door and said to Mr. Hughes, "You got a gun?"

"Of course."

"Get it out, stay with the ladies just in case." On that note, Jane walked briskly back down the long walkway to the carriage which still sat at the end. The door was still open, showing Doyle inside looking a tad impatient. Jane chose to ignore this, folding her arms and nodding behind her. "I need your word that you ain't gonna send any of your men into that house. Otherwise, I ain't talkin' with ya."

"You have my word."

"Good." Jane clambered back into the carriage, shutting the door behind her.

Doyle pulled two cigars out of his breast pocket and leaned over, offering one to Jane. "Cigar?" Wordlessly she accepted it, striking her own match on her boot to light it. "Quite a character, aren't you, Mr. Wyatt?"

Jane's eyes flicked up to Doyle's, momentary panic flooding through her as she wondered if Maura had somehow let something slip. But she realized only a second later that Doyle had been testing the waters, throwing out the name to see if Jane recognized it.

"How d'you know about Jake Wyatt?" Jane asked.

"I see those scars on your hands," Doyle said. "You knew the Surgeon, huh?"

"Surgeon?"

"Yeah. The bastard that changed his name every place he went. I met him in the Midwest. He tried striking a deal with me, but I didn't go for it. He's a bit too chaotic for me, and I wasn't very pleased to hear he hadn't even heard of me. He asked who had the time when there were outlaws like Jake Wyatt spreading terror around all the new territories? The Surgeon showed me one of your wanted posters. That was a face I haven't forgotten since I saw it. Your hair may be long and your beard may be gone, but that doesn't fool me, son."

His tone led Jane to believe she could spin this knowledge into her favor. Coolly exhaling some smoke, she said, "All right, Doyle. You've got me. Rizzoli's just a cover—I'm Jake Wyatt."

"Does Maura know?"

Jane placed the cigar back in her mouth, watching Doyle's face carefully. She had to try and discern if he was trying to slip her up; maybe Maura had said something to the effect of her understanding Jake's character. "Yes," Jane finally said. "She's got an idea."

Looking satisfied, Doyle leaned back. "She told me she'd married a man who used to be on the wrong side of the law. Said he changed for her. That true, Wyatt? You've changed?"

"What's it to ya?"

"You're married to my daughter."

"She ain't your daughter, Doyle. Don't give me that line. And don't get tough with me, neither," she added when Doyle leaned forward again. "I know your kind. Your guts is all in your trigger finger and your wallet and your posse. You take away them pistol arrows and you're nothin'. You dress nice and you look like you got class—that's where ya fool people. I didn't ever have nothin' to go on but me and my partner."

"Not your trigger finger?"

"Only as a last resort."

"Interesting." Doyle leaned back, now looking comfortable and quite at home. Were it not for his record of violently killing people, Jane could have easily envisioned him hobnobbing with others in the upper echelons of society. "You know, Constance said I'd like you. Or she said I'd like you better than Fairfield, anyway."

"Where _is_ Constance?"

"Don't you want to know what it is I like about you, Mr. Wyatt?"

"I don't give a rat's ass what you think about me, Doyle."

"You should. Because I don't care how far across the country you are from me, son. You hurt my daughter, and I'll come for you."

"You don't get it, do you?" Jane asked softly. "There are two problems with what you just said: one, it clearly _does _matter how far across the country I am, because if you really cared about Maura's well-being in the West, you'd have been there when the Surgeon kidnapped her. Maybe you'd have been the one to kill him for hurting her instead of me. I don't scare easy, Doyle. I know you're just bluffin' to try and make me intimidated, and it ain't gonna work. The second problem with your statement: I won't ever hurt Maura so bad that you'd hear about it. I won't ever lay a hand on her. If I ever hurt her emotionally, it won't be on purpose and I'll right the wrong myself, and fast. We've had to do that before, and we'll do it again. The day I hurt Maura Isles intentionally or irreparably will be the day I die, and not a moment sooner."

This clearly made an impression on Doyle, but he chose not to follow up on it. There wasn't really anything he could say to it, anyway. The best reply would be to answer the question Jane had asked a moment ago: "Constance came to Boston to see me, you know."

"I figured it might be somethin' like that."

"When she said Isles wanted Maura to know he wasn't responsible for her birth, I told her we had to talk. I didn't think Maura should know. I thought it was a cowardly decision on Isles' part."

"Don't you dare say that about him."

"You knew Isles?"

"I know that it's because of his hard work, and his love for the child he raised, and his education and his determination that made Maura grow up into the woman I love. He coulda given up when Constance said she wanted to move to France, he coulda told everyone in town that she was a whore." Jane noticed Doyle's hand clench at the word, but he remained silent. "But Isles didn't. He was more of a gentleman than you or I will ever be, and I reckon he was braver, too. He didn't have to keep Maura. He didn't have to keep Constance's secret, either. But he did. You're the coward, Doyle."

She knew she had pressed a nerve. Like Rory Graham, Doyle's weak spot was his pride. Unlike Rory Graham, Doyle had the experience and tenacity to be able to follow up on his threats. He whipped a gun out, pointing it at Jane's heart but maintaining his calm tone of voice when he spoke: "No man has ever called me that and lived."

Jane was unfazed. Years of her life had been spent facing a gun barrel pointed menacingly in her direction, and many times she had only barely escaped death. But she never ran away. Some feeling was burning through her, making her feel almost immortal. Doyle wouldn't pull that trigger. Maybe this was just another test of Jake's mettle.

"Is that supposed to scare me?" Jane asked. "Because all it does is confirm my theory."

"You're pushing it, son."

"You didn't even have the decency or the courage to knock on Maura's door yourself. You knew she was in town, obviously; that's how come ya knew to see her in the cemetery. But tonight, what was that? You had to send men over to break in and blindfold her, kidnap her? You had to terrify her before gettin' your word in? Now if you think that's a brave thing to do, you go ahead and pull that trigger, Doyle. At least I'll die knowin' I ain't a liar."

That remark instigated a very long, very loaded silence. Jane folded her arms and stared unblinkingly back at Doyle, who still had his gun lifted and a stony expression on his face. To Doyle's credit, Jane had a hard time guessing his exact thoughts. It was easy for her to assume that nobody had ever been so forthcoming to him, though—if anyone ever voiced a disagreement or an insult, Doyle had probably never given them long enough to explain their reasoning.

"You carrying?" he finally asked, not lowering his firearm.

Jane pulled back her jacket, showing the gun on her hip. "Wanna see the fastest shot in the West?" she asked.

Doyle's lip curled. "Show me."

Jane didn't move a muscle, but after a moment, asked, "Wanna see it again?"

And then Doyle did something that was almost more frightening than firing a bullet, and certainly more startling: he burst out laughing, a loud and sort of merry sound that took Jane quite by surprise. She had expected perhaps a low chuckle or at the very least a smirk (if he found the remark humorous, that is), but definitely not such a loud display of amusement. Doyle holstered his weapon and stuck out a hand for Jane to shake, which she did only warily.

"You and Fairfield couldn't be more different," Doyle chuckled. "He'd have caved faster than a kid. You've got a real backbone, Jake. It's surprisingly strong for your age."

"Yeah, well, I been through a lot."

"Now let me say my piece." Doyle waited until Jane relaxed enough to take another puff on her cigar. "I could've taken Maura back any time I wanted. Hell, I did it tonight. But even I have standards, Jake. I couldn't in good conscience bring a girl up in my world. I know that from her point of view, I'm not worth much. I knew Desmond could give her a real life, make her a lady, which I couldn't. But I also knew that if she ever needed to be protected, I'd be able to provide it—not a man like Isles . Understand me, Jake. I don't want Maura wrapped up in the life of an outlaw. Isles wouldn't either."

"I understand," Jane said in a level voice. "But you don't have to worry about that. I'm a deputy. I work for the law."

Doyle leaned forward again, exuding a slight sense of menace. "How far would you go to keep Maura safe, now that you're all deputized? I mean, you haven't got Isles' name or Fairfield's money to guarantee anything. How will you convince me that you can take care of her?"

Jane couldn't help thinking of Hoyt—how she had tried to do the right thing at first, getting him arrested and not going rogue by killing him herself. That had always been her intention before meeting Maura, and it was what she reverted to when Hoyt put Maura in physical danger.

She finally answered Doyle by saying, "If I have a choice between being right and protecting Maura, I'll be wrong every single time."

Doyle nodded. "Impressive response, Jake. You're free to go."

"Hold on, Doyle. I've got a question for you, first."

Again she saw she had surprised him. Patrick Doyle was not used to being interrogated. "Well then. Go right ahead."

"What's your game? Everyone says you're pretty ruthless. What d'you do it for?"

With a heavy sigh, Doyle sat back to consider how to phrase his response. "I only hurt people who deserve it," he said. "I take care of what I think the law can't handle."

"I've got a favor I'd like to ask of ya, then. You know Rory Graham?"

"Unfortunately."

"He beats his wife."

"Hell, Jake. I don't know a man in Boston who doesn't."

"I ain't just talkin' a slap on the wrist here, Doyle. He left bruises, and he does it a lot. Got locked up for it, it was so bad. Anyhow, his wife's a friend of Maura's and now I'd consider her a friend of mine. I'd sure appreciate it if you'd keep an eye on him. And I know Maura would appreciate it, too." Unsure if Doyle was sold, Jane added, "Graham's got a little girl too, y'know. I'd hate for her to be exposed to any violent behavior."

Doyle sneered and averted his gaze from Jane. "All right," he said gruffly. "You're keeping my daughter safe. It's the least I can do to keep safe one of her friends."

Jane nodded and banged open the door to the carriage, all but jumping out. As she walked up to the Hughes' house, she could hear the carriage rolling away. She couldn't help admitting to herself that it had felt good to exceed the expectations of Boston's alleged most vicious criminal. Her confidence waned after she announced herself, knocked on the Hughes' door, and Maura opened it, not looking very pleased.

Mr. Hughes walked up behind Maura, a rifle over his shoulder. "You wanna fill us in on what exactly I was armed up for, Rizzoli?"

"Precautionary tactic," Jane said, using a phrase Korsak had taught her. "I was havin' a word with a man who turned out to be a bit dangerous. I thought it's better to be safe than sorry—but don't you worry, Mr. Hughes. The threat was to me and Maura, by extension. Your family ain't in no danger. I appreciate your keepin' an eye on her for me."

"Rizzoli. What're you talking about, who were you with?"

"Trust me, sir. It ain't a problem no more." Jane reached forward and took Maura by the arm, pulling her gently onto the porch. "In fact, I probably overreacted."

"Maura?"

Maura looked somberly at Mr. Hughes, trying to arrange her features into something resembling reassurance. "It's quite all right, Mr. Hughes. Jake's right, he tends to overreact in situations like these—better to err on the side of caution, I suppose. Don't worry; I'm sure Jake has everything under control."

"I do. Goodnight, Mr. Hughes."

Mr. Hughes nodded stiffly. "Rizzoli."

When they reached the Isles home again, Jane practically ripped off her fake mustache and asked, "You have a problem you ain't sharin' with me, Maura?"

"I don't know, do I?" Maura sighed, clearly perturbed about something. "Aren't you in control, Jane? Tell me. Tell me what the problem is."

Jane stared at her. "Maura, you better say whatever the hell's on your mind."

"Where should I start?" Maura cried, lifting her arms up in exasperation. "Jane, you've been treating me like a child!"

"_What? _Because you were kidnapped, and I didn't want to risk anything happenin' to you again?"

"I can take care of myself!" Maura hotly contended.

"Oh, like hell you can," Jane muttered under her breath.

"What did you say?"

Jane huffed and crossed Maura, walking further down the hall. "Maura, I know you're capable of doin' some things, but that don't mean ya could've—"

"What, taken on Doyle?" Maura said. She caught up with Jane, grabbing her by the arm and forcefully turning her around to look at her.

"His men grabbed you right out of this house and took you for a ride!"

"All right, they got me by surprise!" Maura cried. "But once I knew what was going on and I knew who Doyle was, I stood up to him! I talked him down! Yes I was scared, but I didn't let it paralyze me—I didn't let him stun me into silence! I didn't cave, I didn't cry, I didn't let him get the drop on me again! Sure, I mean, we can't all be the rough-skinned, stone-hewn creatures like you when it comes to unpleasant situations, but—"

"Jesus Christ, Maura, I was scared out of my mind for ya!" Jane shouted. "Didn't ya see that when I found ya again?"

"You mean after I told Doyle to take me home, and he acquiesced?"

"Damn it, Maura," Jane growled. "I ain't gonna let you make me feel sorry for tryin' to protect you."

"You didn't even listen to me! You barely spoke to me, and I really needed someone!" Maura insisted, hating that Jane was making her cry. "I had just found out the man I grew up calling my father wasn't actually my father at all, and not only that, but the man who _is _my father is one of the most reviled and wicked men in the country! Don't you think I could have used some closeness, some comfort after all of that?"

"Maura, I had to talk to Doyle and make sure he—"

Maura went on as though Jane hadn't interrupted her: "And then you insisted on taking me to the Hughes, like a child who needed someone to watch her when her parents were leaving the house!"

"I wasn't about to leave you alone again when I nearly lost ya the last time I did! Do you have any idea what that was like for me, Maura? I came back, and you were gone—there were papers all over the floor and the desk had been kicked aside, and I knew you'd been taken but I had no idea where! Do ya think I liked that? Do ya think I was havin' a fun time runnin' all over Boston tryin' to find ya?"

"Jane, that's fine, just don't patronize me! I've—have you forgotten Lola? She tried taking you away from the ranch, when you were unarmed and unprepared, and I picked up a rifle and I got rid of her! _I_ scared her off myself, without _your_ help!"

"All right, Maura, name me one more time!" Jane barked. "Don't try and act tough when you ain't seen even a sliver of the blood and bullets I have my whole life! Doyle pulled a gun on me in that carriage! He coulda killed me, and that wasn't the first time I've found myself in a scrape like that!"

"You didn't have to involve the Hughes—I could've taken care of myself!"

Jane lowered her voice and stepped closer, distinctly enunciating her words. "If that's what you think, then you are naïve and ignorant."

Maura pursed her lips before responding, "At least I don't pride myself on how much I instill fear in other people." She took a step back when she saw that her remark had left as much of a hurtful impact on Jane as Jane's had on her.

It seemed, in fact, that she had never seen Jane looking as small as she did then, which ought to have been Maura's cue to apologize. She was aware that her words had been harsh, but so had Jane's, and for once she didn't feel like being the first to say she was sorry. Knowing that Jane wouldn't follow her, Maura walked around her and headed for the bathroom, grateful only that Jane had had the foresight to place some water-filled buckets in there that morning.

Bathing had always been a way for Maura to calm herself down as a child. It was inexplicably soothing, the feeling of all that water washing away any dirt or grievances that had accumulated over the course of the past few days. Even if she wasn't particularly dirty, it always felt comforting somehow to have so much of her body submerged in warm water as she shut the rest of the world out. With great effort, Maura lifted one of the heavy buckets and emptied it into the tub, trying vainly to free her mind. She then shed her clothes and for the first time in recent memory, allowed them to simply lay on the floor where they fell, not bothering to pick them up or fold them properly.

She stayed long enough for the tips of her fingers to wrinkle.

"_Daddy, why's it do that?"_

"_Why what, sweetheart?"_

"_My fingers, they look like prunes!"_

"_Oh! Well, dear, that's quite normal. Even though you can't see it, there's a special oil on your skin that all humans have, called sebum, and it acts as a waterproofing lubricant…" _

"Maura?"

Her heart stilled and then it ached upon realizing Jane was still in the house, and they were in the middle of an argument that had come out of nowhere. It was petulant and immature not to respond, but Maura couldn't think of a thing to say. She wanted to hear whatever it was Jane wanted to say, if she in fact was going to say anything at all. Straining her ears, Maura heard Jane sigh softly, followed by some sort of sound which may have indicated that Jane had slid down the doorframe to sit on the floor.

Jane had never liked having conversations through closed doors. It never felt right or natural. Serious things ought to be talked over face-to-face; otherwise, you lost the all-important body language. But at least this way, it guaranteed Maura had to at least listen to what Jane had to say, and Jane couldn't bring herself to be so disrespectful as to barge in on her at the moment.

"Maura, I dunno if you're listenin', but in case you are, I just wanna talk, okay? I ain't sayin' I was wrong in what I did, but I do think I coulda been better about it. Talkin' to Doyle was the right thing to do, but… you're right, you ain't a child. It ain't your fault that ain't got the experience I do when it comes to bein' taken unawares. Hell, it sounds like you gave those fellas enough of a fight even without a fair warnin'! I reckon if you'd been armed, Doyle would've had to come get ya himself, 'cause you'd have been able to take care of those thugs no problem."

She paused here, and Maura could perfectly envision the hopeful expression on Jane's face. Still, she remained silent.

After the pause had dragged on long enough, Jane figured she ought to keep going. "Well… anyhow, you're also right in sayin' I shoulda let you just be here alone instead of makin' ya go stay with the Hughes. Maybe I shoulda even let ya be there when I had that talk with Doyle. But Maura, you've gotta understand …I just can't control myself all the time. I know that sounds crazy to ya. It's what you've done your whole life: you can keep things down, you can keep yourself in check when you have to 'cause that's what ladies do, and you're a lady. I ain't a lady, Maura. I holler and I yell and I fight back and I like to shoot things first, ask questions later.

"At least, I used to be that way. You've helped calm me down a bit, but it don't work all the time. Sometimes I still gotta just bust out. You ain't around when Korsak or Frost and me make an arrest, or we chase someone down. You only see us or the crook when one of us is injured; you don't see what caused it. You don't see how wild I get. I just—I _can't help it_, Maura. I see someone gettin' hurt or gettin' scared by someone who thinks he's bigger and better, and I just gotta do whatever I can to take that monster down a peg or two.

"You're a lot stronger than me in so many ways. I know that. This trip's gotten me riled up in a lotta ways I didn't expect, and I feel like what Graham said—nothin' but a hotheaded hick. It's just… you mean more to me than anything the whole world over, Maura. I don't even have to give it a second thought. So when I see someone's hurt ya, or somebody's scared ya, I just can't think straight. It ain't so much that I don't think you can take care of yourself, Maura. It's that I wouldn't be able to sleep if I didn't feel positive I'd done every single damn thing I could think of to help you."

An even longer silence followed this one. Maura felt frigid in the cold water. She finally spoke: "You taught me how, Jane. You taught me how to fight for myself."

"Maura…"

"And I apologize for insinuating that you were tactless. You were just being protective."

"It's that I—I know a lot's happened today, on this trip. I want you to know you ain't alone, Maura. You ain't ever alone so long as you've got me, and you've _got _me."

"I know, Jane. I know. You've got me, too."

* * *

**A/N**: Reviews are love :)


	14. Home and Family

Jane knew this had been Maura's way of forgiving her, but she didn't think it would be right to just open the door between them without Maura's expression permission. But after sitting silently on the floor for nearly another full minute, Jane finally mustered the most deferential tone she could to ask, "Um, Maura? Are ya gettin' out soon, or… can I come in?"

It took so long for Maura to reply that at first Jane thought she hadn't heard her, but eventually her voice came softly through the door: "I just need a little time alone, Jane."

Even if Jane had been expecting this on some level, it was still disappointing and hurt a little bit. She remembered the many arguments she and Frost had gotten into over the years. Most of the time they were resolved in some way before either of them went to sleep, but often—even after apologizing or forgiving—Jane still felt so steamed and wronged that she couldn't bring herself to even look at him. They would sleep separated by a fire, making no efforts for conversation, and the stalemate could last for days. Eye contact was avoided and words were hardly exchanged. Eventually something would happen to necessitate their getting over it, and all was forgotten until the next fight, but Jane didn't want such a standoff to happen with Maura.

However, she was also wary of pressing her luck: "You sure, Maura?" she asked in a hesitant voice. "I'm only askin' on account of you sayin' ya wanted someone to talk to about …all this. Your dad, I mean. And I reckon you didn't bring it up to the Hughes."

A soft, mirthless laugh preceded Maura's reply. "You reckon correctly, Calamity Jane."

Another silence passed as Jane waited vainly for more. "So?" she finally asked.

Maura sighed, but it went unheard by Jane. "I don't really feel like talking about it just now," she murmured, rubbing her arms to warm herself in the cold water.

"Do ya think you will later?"

"Yes, maybe later."

When Jane sighed, the sound carried through the door to Maura's ears, as did the scuff of Jane's boots against the floor as she stood back up. Maura waited to hear the sound of Jane's footsteps walking away, but there was instead a very pregnant pause before Jane spoke again: "Maura, I wanna say just one more thing, okay? I apologize for callin' ya ignorant. We both know that ain't true. But I do think maybe you're a little bit naïve—and that's okay, 'cause we both are, just in different ways. There's some things I prob'ly just won't ever understand, and there are some things I hope to God you don't ever have to."

With that, she finally walked away, the familiar heel-toe pattern of her step seeming to keep in tempo with Maura's sluggish-feeling heartbeat. She really did not know what to make of that last comment. All she knew she was that it hadn't been intended to be insulting; in fact, Jane being willing to own up to some naïveté was considerable progress.

Maura took her time getting out of the water. She was suddenly feeling unaccountably obsessive about making sure every inch of her skin was as clean as possible, never mind the temperature of the water. Once she eventually got out and dried off, she spent considerable time brushing out her hair in front of the room's musty mirror. All in all, probably an hour passed by before Maura finally grabbed the robe hanging by the door and walked into the hallway.

She scaled the staircase and glanced into the bedroom, which turned out to be empty. That didn't surprise her—she figured Jane would be too keyed up to go to sleep right now, and she was probably reading in the sitting room. Maura sat on the edge of the bed, deliberating. She was exhausted, but when she lay on her back, she felt almost ill. This didn't feel right.

Since exchanging their vows, she and Jane had yet to spend a night apart involuntarily. Jane's job occasionally kept her away overnight or longer, depending on how far she and Frost traveled to lend their help. The thought of Jane sleeping on the couch downstairs was, in a way, worse than imagining her alone in the desert. This was willful separation, and Maura felt she had instigated it.

Tying the robe a little more securely around her waist, Maura resolutely got back to her feet and went down the stairs again. Upon reaching the sitting room, she was a little surprised to see that it too was empty, but she didn't feel worried. At first Maura thought she _should _have, at least a bit, but an inexplicable calm had settled over her, telling her everything was fine. She grabbed a shawl and threw it around her shoulders before opening the door to the back porch. And there sat Jane.

Or lay, rather. Using her rolled up coat as a pillow, Jane was sleeping on what Maura had always deemed the most uncomfortable piece of furniture on the property: a black, cast-iron bench. Jane's legs were tucked up and her arms in; peering closer, Maura thought a rifle would have been quite at home between them. For the first time on their trip, Jane's hair was pulled back, giving her a fresh and younger appearance. When Maura stepped around for a better look, Jane's eyes shot open and locked immediately on Maura's.

Maura took a short step back. "How did you do that?" she asked breathlessly.

"Do what?" Jane asked, sitting up.

"I didn't even make a sound, and yet you woke right up the moment I stepped in front of you." Maura laughed softly.

Jane smiled hesitantly at the quiet, pleasant sound. "What're ya laughin' about?"

Sitting next to Jane, Maura said, "My cat Tabitha used to sit on this very bench when I was a child, all curled up like you were just now. She liked to follow me out here when I wanted to read or paint in the yard, and she often fell asleep after I'd leave to do other things. Whenever I came back, no matter how silently I moved, her eyes would always just snap open. That fascinated me."

"Our cat kinda did that, too," Jane said. "It was like another sense she had, or somethin'. Changed when she got older, though. I'd sit and stare at her for the longest time, and she'd just keep on sleepin'. Before, if you so much as looked into the room she was lyin' in, she'd wake right up."

"How old was she when she passed on?"

"Oh, I think about… twelve, maybe. No, fourteen—my Pop got her a couple years before I was born, and she died when _I _was twelve. She got real sick, and nothin' we did to try and save her helped. The animal doctor said there wasn't no hope for her, and Pop said we oughtta put her out of her misery, 'cause you could tell she was hurtin' a lot."

As she said this, Jane pulled out her pistol, running a finger down the barrel before twirling it over once. She mimed shooting something.

"Jane, _you _didn't…?"

"She was _my_ cat," Jane said stoically, putting the gun back in its holster. "It was my responsibility. I hated to do it, but it felt like a cowardly thing to do to let my Pop pull the trigger instead. She was, uh… she was the first thing I ever, uh… killed."

_Killed. _It was a syllable Maura had heard from Jane's lips numerous times before, but there was something decidedly different about the way Jane had said it just now, almost reverently. Not with reverence for the act of killing, but reverence for the life she had taken. Her voice was small, wistful, gentle with the word.

"Not the first time I tried, though," she continued, even after Maura had supportively grasped her hand. "Pop used to take us fishin', but I always wound up throwin' mine back, 'cause I hated to see 'em floppin' around, y'know? It wasn't until I joined up with Frost that I kinda got used to it, 'cause I had to. And then… let's see; the first time I ever had to do lines was when I was about seven, and I had kicked clean through a window tryin' to kill a fly!"

Maura laughed in empathy. "Did you explain your intended goal to Miss Dolores?"

"Oh, it wasn't her yet," Jane said. "Miss Winifred was our teacher through the end of that year, actually. Everyone kinda blamed me for her takin' off. There weren't a lot of students then, and she said I was a bad influence on 'em and that I was un-teachable. She told Angela once, 'Jane Rizzoli doesn't like to be told what to do.'"

"That's still true," Maura chuckled, weaving her arm through Jane's and leaning her head on Jane's shoulder.

It had been intended as a soft joke, but Jane couldn't bring herself to laugh. It _was _still true, and not always to her credit.

She was trying to think of something to say, but Maura ultimately wound up beating her to it: "Jane, I want to apologize."

"You already did."

"Not for everything, though."

"Maura, it's okay," Jane said gently. "We were both upset, right? We both said some things we didn't mean. You're in a real fragile state, emotionally speakin', and I just walked out on ya. You shoulda been mad at me." When Maura didn't deny this, Jane squeezed her hand again. "You wanna talk about Doyle, now?"

"I want to go home," Maura said quietly.

"What? Aren't we…isn't that where we are?"

"I want to go to _our _home," Maura clarified, surprised that she even needed to. "I miss our town and our house and our yard, and our pets and our bed and our friends, and our—your family."

"Our family," Jane assured her, rubbing Maura's arm with her free hand.

"Tomorrow I just want to deal with whatever else has to be dealt with," Maura said in one breath. "Decide what we'd like to bring back, or send back. And then I want to leave, as soon as possible."

"All right," Jane said, her voice soothing. "We'll get to work tomorrow. What d'you want to do tonight?"

Maura let out a long, contemplative sigh. Jane's tone had been very innocent, yet had Maura been in a different mood, she would have felt up to interpreting it a bit more raunchily than Jane had clearly intended. The only thing beating fiercely right now was Maura's heart, clamoring desperately to maintain this emotional closeness with Jane.

"I want you to come to bed with me," Maura finally whispered.

Jane normally might have offered to carry Maura up, just to diffuse any remaining tension, but she decided against it. Instead, she stood up and offered her hand to Maura, and they walked together back into the house and up the stairs. When the lamp was out and the room was dark and they were finally lying side by side, Maura leaned over to wrap an arm over Jane's stomach. Nothing else needed to be said tonight. They were at peace with each other again.

* * *

The harp, a Japanese rug, Desmond Isles' portrait, a chair from her old room, and a drawer of Desmond's letters, journals, and personal effects were the items Maura decided she wanted to take back with her to Arizona. This naturally left a substantial amount of furniture in the house for the veteran who was looking to buy the house, and Maura found herself suddenly much more open to the idea of selling it. Even when she had moved out West, she had taken comfort in knowing nobody else had inhabited this house.

Now she felt ready to give it up. Part of that probably had to do with finding out she was not an Isles by blood, making her feel as though she had no real claim to the property.

It had been an exhausting day of moving heavy furniture, making arrangements to send some of the larger items along by coach, and otherwise inspecting every nook and cranny of the house. By late afternoon, Maura figured that she and Jane deserved a break. They chose to recline on the long sofa in the sitting room, both of them with their hair pulled back and their faces dotted with sweat. The day had felt inordinately long.

For a few moments, they rested in silence. Jane was barely keeping her eyes open, having gotten a pretty bad night's sleep and then working hard from early morning until now. Maura was taking the quiet time to really get a good look at Jane for the first time all day, which was a bit surprising considering she was wearing the ensemble Maura had been most excited to see on her. It consisted of a dandified dark brown double-breasted vest with matching trousers, all of it pinstriped. Most shades of brown had always looked good on Jane, in Maura's opinion—they really brought out the rich color of her eyes. Giving her some much-needed color, though, was the sky-blue shirt buttoned up beneath the vest. It provided a lightness, softening what could have otherwise been a very intimidating appearance. Jane certainly cut quite a figure.

Jane looked over at Maura when she felt fingers trailing lightly down one of the rows of buttons on her vest. "These clothes suit you very well, you know," Maura commented matter-of-factly. "But I look forward to going home and seeing you more in your element."

"I do miss denim," Jane admitted.

Maura leaned over and offered Jane a chaste kiss, the first one they shared since Jane had left her on the Hughes' porch the previous evening.

"Hold on," Maura whispered, getting up before Jane could deepen the kiss. "I think this will complete the outfit." She could feel Jane's eyes on her as she strolled over to a desk on the far side of the room, opening it and concealing something in her hand as she walked back to the sofa. Jane sat a little straighter as Maura sat next to her again and opened her palm.

"Maura," Jane whispered.

"This was my father's," Maura said quietly, turning a very old, very beautiful pocket watch over in her hand. A lump rose unexpectedly in her throat as she remembered the dozens of instances she had seen Desmond Isles pull this family heirloom from his pocket, squinting to read the time with the tiny golden hands. Usually she would catch just a glimpse of the ornate, black-pearl finish before he had managed to stow it back in his pocket again, winking at her. "I think he'd like you to have it."

"Me?" Jane asked nervously.

"He told me so. In a way, at least. When I wanted to play with it as a child, he explained that I would have to be patient and wait to get a husband, and then maybe someday he'd give it to that man. He would have loved you so, Jane. I know it. He would have loved how much you love me."

Jane delicately reached out for the watch and chain, holding it as though it were sacred. A tiny transparent hole in the back showcased the inner mechanics of the watch, something Jane had never considered before. She pressed her thumb against the clasp, popping the cover off to see the face in its detailed full. Checking the time against the grandfather clock nearby, Jane saw that she'd have to adjust the watch at some point—later, when she had a tool on hand small enough to do the trick.

"I don't know what to say," Jane murmured, closing the watch again but not taking her eyes off it.

"Say you'll wear it," Maura prompted her, leaning in close and resting her head near Jane's shoulder.

With a soft laugh, Jane shifted to clasp the watch's chain inside the bottom right pocket of her vest, then securely tucked the actual watch into her left pocket. "How's it look?"

"Mighty fine, Jane Rizzoli."

Jane sighed deeply and put her arm around Maura's shoulders, encouraging Maura to lean fully against her, letting a hand rest near Jane's collar. "You up for talkin' now?" Jane asked patiently.

She felt Maura nod once, but there was a bit of a pause before she actually said anything. "How do you handle grief, Jane?"

"I guess I don't," Jane said, after giving it some consideration. "I don't like talkin' about stuff. I just focus on whatever it is the situation's forced me to handle, y'know? Like when my dad was killed, I knew I coulda just packed it in and given up, or I coulda done what I had to when it came to makin' sure Tommy and Frankie were taken care of."

"I suppose I like time to process things," Maura said. "But this feels different."

"How?"

"Well, it's all just been so jarring, in one fell swoop."

"What's that mean?"

"It means it happened all at once. Yesterday afternoon I believed I was Desmond Isles' daughter by birth, and then not only do I learn that wasn't the case, but I learn almost immediately afterwards that my real father was—is—one of the most notorious men in Boston's history." A short, shuddering sigh slipped out of her. "A stone-cold killer. His reputation was too grisly to avoid; we all heard about him, even as children, no matter how much our parents tried to keep us from learning things of that nature. And then when he came up to me in the graveyard…" She sighed again, and this time it sounded frustrated. "He was toying with me from the start."

"I know," Jane whispered, rubbing Maura's shoulder. "But… I dunno, ain't ya glad he didn't say anythin' to ya at the graveyard? Wouldn't ya have rather heard it from your father, Desmond, than from Doyle first?"

"That doesn't excuse the kidnapping," Maura said with a shiver.

"Jesus, Maura, you don't have to tell me that," Jane said in a level voice. A short kiss to her jaw told her Maura was apologetic for the tone she had just used.

"I still can't get my head around it," Maura said. "Doyle told me he sent Collin away so he wouldn't have to be raised in Doyle's world, with all that death. And look at me, the doctor's daughter. Medicine woman of the west. I'm around more death than he is."

Jane groaned and pulled out of Maura's grip to be able to look her in the eye. "You ain't the one doin' the killing," she said slowly, steadily. "So don't go makin' comparisons like that, ever."

"Am I like him?" Maura asked, her tone nervous.

For Jane's expression, Maura might have just asked whether she was personally responsible for starting the war between the states. "Maura, come on."

"He said it was a family business," Maura insisted. "Passed down from his father, and his grandfather, and probably longer beyond that. Don't you think there's an argument to be made that this is the sort of behavior which can be inherited?"

Jane gaped wordlessly at her for a moment, trying to understand how Maura could even let herself _consider _believing such a thing. "Maura Dorothea Isles, you were not raised in the business of taking lives. Your family's business is in _saving _lives. As far as I'm concerned, your father's the man who raised you, and that man was a doctor and a gentleman. Or are you tryin' to tell me that even if none of this had ever come out, even if ya'd gone your whole life never knowin' Desmond Isles wasn't your 'real' father, that somethin' evil woulda just come outta ya?"

It took Maura a second to process what Jane had just said. "No, I suppose I wouldn't," she mused.

"Then there ya go, Maura. Look, this is America, ain't it? My parents came here lookin' for a place where they could be respected on their own terms, build themselves up from nothin'. They didn't need a name with a long history here, they just had to make their own mark. You ain't like Doyle just for sharin' his blood. You're like Isles 'cause that's the name and the heart that took you in when he didn't have to, and it's the name you wanna live up to. It's the name ya _do _live up to." She frowned and looked deeply into Maura's tear-sheened eyes. Something she had always admired about Maura was that she always looked you in the eye when you were talking to her. "And you know that, don't you?"

Maura nodded weakly. "I think I do. I just—I needed to hear someone else say it. Otherwise I was afraid I was just trying to rationalize my feelings to myself in a desperate bid to—I don't know, disregard Doyle's relation to me."

"What's goin' on in that big brain of yours, Maura?"

"Well…it's like you said. I assume it's how you feel about Angela, even if you always knew she was never technically your 'real' mother. She was the only mother you and especially your brothers really knew. Desmond Isles was the man who raised me, who was a parent for me, and I never knew any different. Therefore, he is my father."

Jane left a long kiss on Maura's forehead and held her closely for the next few minutes. There were a number of things on her mind she'd have liked to say, but since meeting Maura she had learned not to speak every thought that came to her. They might not all be appropriate or timely. What was most pressing was that she really thought Patrick Doyle had done Maura a great favor by giving her up, by allowing Constance to marry another man and letting him raise that child. She found herself wondering whether Doyle knew that Dr. Isles was fully aware Maura wasn't his own daughter. What all had Constance confided in him? And where had she gone, anyway?

Maura's voice ultimately jarred her out of her reverie. "There was a gentleness I wasn't expecting."

"What?"

"Doyle. I was so scared in the moment, and then so proud of myself for getting out of it, that I didn't really notice at the time—but he wasn't quite what I would have expected. He didn't possess a lot of tact, but he was not as frightening or as wicked as I thought he would have been."

"Aside from the kidnapping part, you mean?" Jane asked skeptically.

"Well, during our actual conversation..."

Jane shrugged. "Just a charming killer. You've seen that type before." Her tone made it obvious she was talking about herself, and Maura leaned back a little to look at her. Jane kept her gaze on the floor. "Korsak used to say Jake's charm was the only thing keepin' him from getting killed. I was real good at flattering people when I had to."

"I still wouldn't compare you to him, Jane. According to what you and Korsak have told me, you've always been admirable."

"I've always done my best, anyway."

Maura figured she would let that line of conversation drop there, because this was never something Jane ever really felt comfortable talking about. It was like no matter how much Maura tried to stress her belief in Jake Wyatt's honor, Jane would never feel all right fully accepting it herself. So, she dropped it. "Jane?"

"Yes?"

"I just feel like I ought to warn you… I'm not sure when, and it won't probably be just now or even today, but …I just don't want you to be too surprised if I suddenly burst out crying at some point, still thinking about all this—Doyle and my father."

Jane chuckled ruefully, tightening her grip on Maura's shoulder. "I don't care how crazy you get or how sudden it happens. I'll be there for ya, and I'll be ready."

"You're always ready," Maura said, sounding wistful. "If Doyle's men had stormed in here to snatch _you_, I know you'd have been able to fight them off."

"Well, I've had experience."

"Teach me, Jane. Please."

Jane considered it briefly. "I can't, Maura."

"Are you condescending to me again?"

"No, Maura, I ain't. Look, I can teach ya to shoot the head of a pin if ya want. I can teach ya how to throw a lasso, or throw a punch, or duck one blow. But it don't matter how much ya know or how straight ya can shoot if you ain't used to the enemy gettin' the drop on ya. I've been ambushed and attacked enough to know how to use my surroundings to my advantage, no matter where I am. It just ain't somethin' you can teach. You've gotta live it."

Maura frowned, wishing she could find a flaw in this explanation, but Jane's point was a solid one. "Will you at least teach me how to better defend myself?"

"Hey, you don't need my help. You made a right good point in remindin' me of Lola. You just up and shot her with a rifle after one lesson!"

"Well… that was an accident. She hit me first, and I had sort of been startled into pulling my trigger, and well, that was the result. My bullet happened to make contact."

"Oh. Well heck, Maura, I'll do my best to teach ya anythin' you wanna learn. You just say the word."

"I feel like I've been doing an awful lot of talking lately," Maura yawned. "What about you, Jane? What's been on your mind lately?"

Jane shrugged again. "You."

"And my father?"

"Yeah."

"No good," Maura sighed, shaking her head. "I need a distraction; something to help get my mind off of it. What else have you been thinking? Anything?"

Jane squinted, trying to imagine how much trouble she could get in for bringing up the subject she really wanted to. "Well …there's somethin' I've been thinkin' about since our first night here. You remember what we did that night? After our dinner with the Hughes?" She glanced over at Maura, who whose hand was on her knee as she smiled encouragingly at her. "Uh, well, I guess I was wonderin' if ya had any more clothes like the ones you were wearin' then."

"You mean the ones you tore from my body, and which are now beyond repair?"

It may have been slightly perverse, but Maura liked being able to make Jane squirm. "Yeah, those ones," she mumbled, her words slurring together as she rushed to get them out.

"I'm afraid I'll have to place an order for some more," was the giggled reply. "Frankly at this point, I'm upset that you're the only one who got a show. In fact, taking Stanley's tavern into account, you're the _only _one who's ever gotten a show."

"Hell, Maura, you ain't ever gettin' me into any of that stuff," Jane said stiffly, though she was clearly fighting a laugh. "Lace and corsets, and all that—it ain't my style."

"Would you tell me what is?"

This wonderfully distracting conversation was then interrupted by one of the worst timed door-knockings in either Jane or Maura's experience. Maura sullenly went to answer it as Jane stayed back and quickly applied her mustache. From the voices she heard, she correctly guessed that Charlotte and her children were the visitors.

"I hope we aren't intruding," Charlotte said, barely keeping her son from barging into the house.

"Certainly not," Maura said, opening the door a bit wider. "Please, come in."

"Where's Jake?" Jackson asked, barely able to contain his excitement.

"Don't go bothering Mr. Rizzoli, Jackson," Charlotte chided him.

"Oh, don't be silly, Charlotte!" Maura said with a laugh. "Jake adores him."

Jane came strolling into view just then. "Who do I adore?"

"Jackson."

"Ah yes, it's true. Good evening, Miss Charlotte," Jane said, taking Charlotte's hand and kissing it. "How are you?"

"I can't complain," Charlotte said by habit.

"Can't or won't?" Jane asked. It had slipped out of her before she'd had a chance to realize it probably wasn't a very appropriate remark for a man to make towards a woman he hardly knew.

Charlotte seemed to be on the same wavelength. "Actually, Jake," she said, "if you wouldn't mind—I would appreciate the chance to have a word alone with Maura. Could I possibly impose upon you to watch Jackson and Eleanor for a moment?"

"Wouldn't be imposing at all," Jane said, reaching for little Eleanor's hand. "All right you rascals, let's give your mother a hard-earned moment of quiet, huh?"

She led the children back down the hallway and ultimately out into the yard, where they were safely out of earshot. Maura and Charlotte had followed a moment later, enough to reach the sitting room. "Do they know where their father is?" Maura eventually asked.

"No," Charlotte whispered. "I told them he is away on business. I don't know how to feel about this, Maura, but they didn't seen entirely sad at the prospect. In fact, Jackson's appeared more happy than I've seen him in quite some time." She lifted her hand to her mouth for a moment, ashamed to have admitted the observation.

But Maura was not unkind. "I see."

"This is from your mother," Charlotte said abruptly, holding out a letter. "Apparently she left my parents' house in the middle of last night or early in the morning, even though she wasn't to have gone officially until tonight. I offered to bring this note over to you."

Maura took it with trembling fingers, but she didn't want to read the letter in Charlotte's presence. "Thank you," she said, barely able to keep her voice from shaking. "I'll certainly attend to it as promptly as possible."

"She left one for me as well," Charlotte said to Maura's surprise. "Quite a short one—but as she may have told you, she knows that Rory is in jail. And she made a very kind offer, which I wanted your opinion on."

"Oh. What is it?"

Charlotte swallowed nervously, twisting the hem of her jacket. "She said she thought it could be advantageous for me and the children to spend some time abroad, away from Rory. She wants for us to come live in Paris, apparently for an indeterminate amount of time at present. And this came right on the heels of a letter from the Davises, inviting us to come stay in Italy."

This stroke of kindness took Maura a bit off guard. "Well! Do you think you'll take them up on it?"

"I thought it would work nicely for us all," Charlotte said, desperate not to be selfish. "Not just me, although I could certainly stand the distance from Rory once he is released—"

"When would you leave?"

"As soon as possible. Incidentally, when are you and Jake planning to return to Arizona?"

"Actually, we're getting a train on Friday."

Charlotte appeared genuinely surprised. "So soon? But you've just gotten here!"

"I know," Maura said with a small smile. "But… things have gotten a little out of control while we've been here. Jake and I have both been a tad overwhelmed by unforeseen, er… situations."

"I'm sorry if some people have been unkind."

"Oh, it isn't that."

"Jackson has made an idol out of him," Charlotte laughed. "And from what I've seen, Maura …I don't think anything would make me happier than to have Jackson grow up to be the type of man you've married."

On some level Maura knew she ought to feel sorry, to be sad that Charlotte's husband was so awful. But she couldn't help being moved that somebody else was validating Jane, finding things to be admired. "Really?"

"Yes. When Jackson gets a wife one day, I want him to treat her the way Jake treats you. Any man who speaks and acts so respectfully towards his wife in public must be that way in when you are in private, as well." She forced a smile when Maura nodded meekly. "Jake's made quite an impression in such a short time. I think it's wonderful, I really do."

"Thank you for telling me, Charlotte. Would you mind if I told Jake what you just said?"

"Please do tell him. Maybe it will help him see how suited the two of you would be for taking in an orphan or two."

Maura couldn't help smiling at that, and Charlotte could honestly return the gesture now. "We were discussing that earlier, actually. He seemed very excited at the prospect."

"Oh, Maura." Charlotte sniffed and nearly pulled out a handkerchief. "It warms my heart to hear you say that—to know there will be at least one lonely child out there who will be able to call the Rizzoli's his parents."

* * *

**A/N**: If you are still reading and have any questions/comments/concerns, if you're enjoying it or have any recommendations for improvement, please leave a review! Thanks for reading :)  
(also, somebody asked about why Charlotte would mention adoption if she thinks Jane is actually a man- a while ago, Maura mentioned that for reasons she didn't want to discuss, it wouldn't be possible for her and Jake to have children of their own. Just a small detail that I can totally understand forgetting!)


	15. Equal Partners

At Maura's request, the first thing Jane did the next morning was head back out to the police station to have a word with the chief. The five days Jane had initially suggested for Rory's jail time were nearly up, and Maura wanted to make sure he remained locked up until Charlotte and the children were safely on their way to Europe. It would be a while before they were able to leave, but Maura knew that Charlotte's nerve was more likely to fail her if Rory was released to talk (or worse) her out of it. For now, it seemed that Charlotte wasn't as worried about what people might be saying about her family, because she could look forward to moving them away soon to a place where nobody knew them or their troubles.

Jane apologized to the chief of police for her temper and the way she had spoken to him the night Maura had been kidnapped, but she was assured that no justification for her action was needed.

"We were all a little excited," said the prematurely widowed chief. "And frankly, deputy, if a man's wife is missing, I'd rather have him be agitated and itching to help, not sitting complacently back home. You did the right thing in badgering us."

They shook hands on it, with the chief also adding he would keep Rory out of Charlotte's way until she had left town. Jane left his station feeling secured that between his and Doyle's promised protection, Charlotte and her children would be safe from Rory's violence.

She met Maura for lunch in a wide park with a view of the river. Food had been thoughtfully provided by a grateful Charlotte, but before they started eating, Maura handed Jane a small folded letter.

"What's this?"

"Apparently my mother left it for me. Charlotte brought it over." She looked at Jane, who was hesitantly staring down at the letter. "I haven't read it yet."

"Why not?"

"I'm not sure. I still just feel so taken aback by the suddenness of her departure, and I'm so confused by her behavior. Jane, she _knows_. She knows what you and I are doing, and she embraced it with open arms. And I've since found out that she's also offered a place in Paris for Charlotte to stay with her children! That is an offer she has never made to any of my friends, or anyone in Boston at all. I really felt she had changed, that she was becoming a little more soft. But then she leaves without a word, giving us nothing but the key to my father's drawer and now this note! How could she do something so cowardly?"

Jane shrugged. "I dunno. She said herself that we gave her too much credit. Maybe this is what she meant."

"I want you to read it to me," Maura said.

"_What? _Maura, c'mon, you should read it first. Besides, I still ain't so good at readin', you know that. It'll take me a while."

"Good."

"Don't you wanna get it over with fast?"

"If I did, I'd have read it when Charlotte gave it to me last night. I wanted to avoid it then, but if I put it off any longer, it's just going to bother me until I know what she said. If I read it myself, I'll hear it my mother's voice. I'd prefer yours."

Not entirely sure what to make of that, Jane nonetheless smiled hesitantly and opened the letter. She sobered up immediately, doing her best to read the letter straight through without getting hung up on too many of the words:

"'_My dearest Maura – I have just come from a very long, very unpleasant conversation with Patrick Doyle. We had disagreed about how to let you find out about your true heritage. My plan was to simply trust that given your curious nature, you would have already tried finding a key to unlock the top drawer of Desmond's desk, where he had told me he kept his letter divulging our secret to you. The key has been in my possession for quite some time now and I left it with the Hughes to give you, trusting that you would find out what it was for.'_"

Jane sighed and rubbed her eyes. Maura sat up a little straighter. "Is that all?"

"No, there's more," Jane whimpered. "She just uses so many long words. And I feel like this ain't the sort of thing we should use for a readin' lesson."

"You're probably right about that. Do you think you could just summarize it for me? You don't have to read it word-for-word. That way you can skip the ones giving you trouble, and still help me."

"Uh, okay," Jane said softly, holding the letter up again. She scanned it carefully, and Maura forgot for a moment what she was supposed to be focusing on; it was just too easy to concentrate solely on the contours of Jane's face as she studied the letter. Ultimately, Jane's voice broke into her thoughts: "She says …Doyle told her what he did, takin' ya and talkin' to ya, but that you already knew at that point Desmond weren't your father. She's real sorry he did that to ya, and she's… she was too 'horrified' to face ya. She had to be leavin' today but didn't know what to say to ya about what happened, so she took the yellow-bellied way out and left ya this letter."

"Yellow-bellied?"

"I added that. It's true, ain't it? That's what she's sayin'. Anyhow, she said she'll still be in the states for a while, and she got our Arizona address from the Hughes. She'll write again in a while and see if we'd be up for a visit."

Maura shook her head as Jane folded the letter back up again and slipped it into her pocket. "Well, fancy that. My parents were fighting over me. And my own mother was too afraid to face me for it."

"But she wants to see us before she goes back to France. That's a good sign, right?"

"I suppose." Maura sighed heavily, staring out at the water. "I don't know what I would have expected, but now that I think about it, this is in character for her." She shrugged and looked at Jane, who was eying her curiously. "My mother, as you may have gleaned, is not generally comfortable with emotion towards others. I feel like it would be a betrayal to call her selfish, but I _do _believe she has always been somewhat self-centered. That's why she's poor at interpersonal relationships. Anything that isn't perfectly shallow or tinged with alcohol is unfamiliar territory."

"Maura, she talked to you here, though…"

"That was a first. This is all new. We're not used to confiding in each other to that level, and apparently it became too much to handle. She couldn't face me, not after what Doyle did—and I can understand that, really."

Now Jane was the one shaking her head. "I wish I could find her for ya. I'd make her talk to ya, make her tell ya her side of the story."

Maura gently took hold of Jane's arm, rubbing her thumb against it. "That's sweet of you, dear, but as it's impossible …let's try a different tack, hm?"

"Okay," Jane said, pulling her arm out of Maura's loose grip and putting it around Maura's shoulders. "Call me the deputy in charge of cheerin' you up. What's our first item of business?"

"You've already started," Maura chuckled, appreciating Jane's ability to shift into a jovial attitude. "Having lunch with me here, I mean. I used to spend a lot of time on this hilltop as a child, alone. It was public enough that my father felt safe allowing me to be here, but this spot was also private enough that I could be by myself, not bothered by the other children. I could see them, though." She laughed softly, finally taking a bite of her lunch. "It's still the gathering place, I see."

Further down the hill towards the water, a group of young women were all painting a landscape together. Several yards away was a cluster of young men, none of whom seemed particularly interested in the scenery.

"This is the old watering hole, eh?" Jane asked. "Ever meet any fellas down here, Maura?"

Giving Jane a light shove, Maura feigned shock and said, "I should think not, Deputy Rizzoli! No; I'm afraid I was much too strange."

"What about Fairfield? He ever come here with ya?"

"No," Maura said. Even if she had been capable of lying, it was clear by her tone that she wasn't just trying to placate Jane. "I liked to be here by myself. Typically I was alone anyway, but at least here, it was by choice."

The casualness with which she said this nearly made Jane's heart break. She wove her fingers through Maura's, bringing her hand close enough to kiss. "Well, thank you for bringing me here. I'm honored."

"You took me to that spot on Sparrow Lake. It only felt fair to return the favor," Maura said with a smile, squeezing Jane's hand. Her gaze returned to the groups of people by the river, specifically the men who were now openly staring at the girls. "Would you ever do that, Jane?"

"What?"

"Put yourself on display," Maura said, nodding at the women. "I know it seems like they're here to paint, but most of them aren't. They want to be seen. They want to be looked at. They're the art, and they know it—they know they're the only thing those men are interested in seeing. I always tried to look my best when I left the house, but it wasn't really for anyone else. I felt good when I dressed up. I just …I can't picture you ever going out of your way to impress a man."

Jane laughed loudly, glad for the seclusion of their spot. "Not in the way of those ladies, no. It didn't ever feel right to me. I guess I wanted men to respect me for my skills with a firearm, not for the way I dressed. I wanted 'em to pay attention to my words, not my body."

"Can't you have both?"

Jane shrugged. "Yeah, sure, but I didn't want both."

"What about me?" Maura asked quietly.

"What _about _you?"

"Well, I never fully understood the concept of dressing to please someone else," Maura said, "until I met you. Our first night here …I felt drunk off the way you looked at me, Jane." She let that sink in, watching carefully as Jane looked at her, subconsciously licking her lips. "If we didn't already share a deeper emotional bond, I may not have appreciated it in the same way. But I knew there was more to it than mere physical desire, and that's how I was able to handle it."

Even if no one could feasibly overhear them, Jane didn't really want to discuss this in a public place, which Maura could understand. It did make Jane think, though. There was definitely a certain power she had felt in being able to see and hold Maura when she had been dressed so scantily, and while at the time she had been grateful for Maura's readiness to do it, she hadn't really considered the gesture in full. It'd been done chiefly for Jane's gratification and with no pride whatsoever.

She deserved the chance to be on the receiving end… _heh. Talk about one hell of a distraction_.

"What do you say?" Maura whispered, as if reading Jane's thoughts. "Would you let me measure you for some Parisian garments?"

Jane couldn't help smirking. "You'd have to wait quite a while for them to get to us."

"Fortunately, I'm a very patient person."

"I'm not." Jane leaned back, lying down a bit and resting her wait on her elbows. "Hey, lookit that," she said, nodding in the direction of the would-be painters. "Looks like they're finally gonna acknowledge them gentlemen callers."

"Oh gracious, it's sad, isn't it?" Maura chuckled. "I wish there were a more natural way for them to get the chance to interact. My father never wanted me to go down by the banks of this river. Long before I was even engaged to be married, he said he didn't want me to wind up with someone who just picked me up by the river. He believed I deserved better."

"Did I ever tell ya what my Pop said to me about marriage?" Jane asked.

Maura tried to think back. "No, I don't think you have."

"He told all three of us, but I bet the boys don't remember. He said the best way for us to be happy in our married lives would be to marry someone we thought was better than us. And he didn't mean richer, or classier, or any of that."

"What _did _he mean, then?"

"He meant not to settle for less than what we deserved," Jane answered. "Marrying up means you're open to learnin' new things, and you see—you can see somethin' somebody else has, a quality you'd really like to, uh…" She waved her hand, as if hoping to grasp the right word out of the air.

"Cultivate?"

"Yeah! Cultivate. And you say to yourself, 'hey, I reckon that person could make _me_ a better person. I oughtta try gettin' to know 'em better.' There ya go." Jane reached for Maura's hand and gave it a quick kiss. "So I think in that way, Pop would've approved of ya. You make me wanna be smarter and more patient, and ya got more class than anyone else I know. It makes it so easy to respect ya."

Maura was rendered temporarily speechless. She sometimes wondered if Jane was fully aware of the impact her words could have. "You know, I think that's the problem with Boston society," she finally said. "They think of marrying someone better _only _in terms of money or social standing. You at least want someone on equal social, economic footing with you."

"Your pals all prob'ly think you've married down," Jane said. She was trying to sound amused, but Maura couldn't help feeling like there was a hint of concern in the statement, like maybe the Bostonians had a point.

"Charlotte doesn't think so," Maura countered. "She thinks you're incredible, Jane, and she says she hopes her son grows up to be just like you."

This brightened Jane's mood considerably. "Really?"

"Yes. I married up because I exchanged vows with someone who can be strong without needing me to be weak. I married someone who is bold in ways I am not, who puts others first, and who isn't too proud to learn. You…" She leaned over and kissed Jane on the cheek. "Are more than I ever could have thought to ask for."

"Right back at ya, Dr. Isles."

* * *

By the time their last night in Boston rolled around, Maura felt a little more calm about everything she had learned on this trip. In fact, she was starting to feel quite good about it. If nothing else, the situation with Doyle helped her feel a little better about her courage. At first she had thought how much she would have preferred never knowing Desmond Isles had been only her adoptive father, but with Jane's help she had started to see "only" didn't need to be a qualifier. The relationship he had shared with her now just strengthened Maura's belief in her and Jane's ability to raise a child neither of them had given birth to themselves.

Their last dinner was spent with the Hughes, including Charlotte and Emily's families. The main discussion centered around Charlotte's decision to relocate to Europe, which Mrs. Hughes seemed to think was a lovely idea while her husband was slightly less enthused.

"Spending some time in Italy, eh?" he asked gruffly. "The Fairfields are in Milan. Plan on seeing them?"

"Oh, I'm not so sure," Charlotte said quickly. "Erm… Maura? If I did, is there anything you should like me to… tell him for you?"

Jane kept her eyes on her food even when she felt Maura's gaze lingering on her. After an uncomfortably long silence, Maura finally said, "Yes. If you see him, you may tell him that I am doing very well."

Charlotte waited for more. "Is…that all?"

"Yes. That should be sufficient."

"And if he asks inquires about anything more?"

Mr. Hughes cut in: "Garrett Fairfield is a gentleman. He knows it would be improper to pry, and therefore he will not. Maura?"

She looked at him questioningly. "Sir?"

It was hard to define the look he gave her, but it was so heavy with meaning that he did not even need to say another word. Even though Maura had never been on the receiving end of such a stare before, she knew instinctively and immediately that was intended to relay whatever sentiment lay deeper than disappointment. As much as Desmond had been thoroughly invested in Maura's life as a happy and energetic father, Mr. Hughes had always been the strict disciplinarian on the block. He knew everybody's business and judged them accordingly, but Maura had never felt his dissatisfaction as deeply and thoroughly as she did in that moment at the dinner table.

He thought she had made a terrible mistake in choosing to leave Garrett Fairfield, that much was clear. Maura wouldn't have given it a second thought, except for a moment, she saw her father sitting in Mr. Hughes' place. Desmond had loved Garrett, and rightfully so. Were he still alive, what would he have thought of her breaking off the engagement? Would she have ever come back to Boston with Jane? Could she have lied so openly to him?

Jane was the one to break the awkwardly prolonged silence when she realized Mr. Hughes wasn't actually going to say anything. "So! Have y'all met the man who's intendin' to buy the house?"

"We have not," Mrs. Hughes answered, glancing at her now-silent husband. "He has been in communication with us in writing only—a Lieutenant Jones. He seemed very respectful and, er, eager for the estate. He'll treat it very well, I'm sure, and we'll certainly be helping!"

"Does he have a family?"

"Not to our knowledge, but I _do _hope he does! We could certainly stand to have more children on this street, so Jackson and Eleanor could…"

She trailed off upon realizing that by the time the Lieutenant got to Boston, her grandchildren would no longer be nearby. Emily's pregnancy gave her something to look forward to, but she was still sadder than she let on that her first-born daughter and first-born grandchildren would be leaving the country. Her performance was so good in fact that nobody noticed her melancholy except Jane, who decided to hold off on saying anything until they were leaving.

Mr. Hughes excused himself shortly after Jesse and Emily left, and Maura was discussing arrangements with Charlotte for a ride to the train station in the morning. It was a task Charlotte had volunteered for only after Anne had kept leaving very large and fruitless hints that she would have liked the job. Jane managed to shake Jackson off just long enough for a private word with their ever-gracious hostess.

"Mrs. Hughes?"

"Yes, Jake?"

"I was wonderin', uh… well, I mean, first off I'd just like to thank ya for all you've done to help Maura and I while we've been out here."

"You're quite welcome. Although—I hate to correct you—it should be 'Maura and _me_,' not 'Maura and I.'"

Jane narrowed her eyes. "You messin' with me?"

"No…"

"That's what I always say, and Maura always goes around correcting me!"

"Well, it depends on the context," Mrs. Hughes patiently explained. "Try taking the other person out of the sentence and see how it sounds. You wouldn't say 'thanks for all you've done to help I,' would you?"

Jane thought about it for a moment, considering that even if she did not have a very strong command of the English language, she knew that sounded awkward. "Oh, okay, I gotcha! I never woulda thought of it that way. Thanks for that, Mrs. Hughes. You're a real lady."

Mrs. Hughes gave Jane her hand when the deputy reached for it, trying not to smile too much at the praise. "Well don't you ever let anyone tell you you're anything but a gentleman, Jake Rizzoli."

"Yes ma'am. Look, before we go, I just wanted to tell ya that I understand it'll be real hard havin' Charlotte take her son and her little girl all the way across the ocean. And I know there ain't nothin' much I can say that'll make the separation easier to take. But you should know that I really do believe it's the right thing for Charlotte to do, and them kids'll be gettin' a real good education over there. I know how it feels to be far away from family, Mrs. Hughes. Real far." She swallowed a lump in her throat that had risen up when she realized Mrs. Hughes was blinking back tears. "It ain't easy. But write to 'em as much as ya can, and go over there to visit yourself! They ain't gonna love you any less, and they ain't gonna forget ya, neither. You can count on that."

The older woman was definitely crying now. "Oh—Jake, that's so sweet!"

"Aw, gosh, Mrs. Hughes," Jane said, laughing uncomfortably. "I didn't mean to make ya cry!"

"Don't apologize," Mrs. Hughes said. "But dear me, I seem to have left my handkerchief inside—"

"Here, take mine," Jane offered.

Mrs. Hughes quickly took it and blew her nose rather loudly. "Maura is very fortunate to have found you, Mr. Rizzoli."

Jane grinned and held her hands up. "I'm the lucky one, Mrs. Hughes." She sighed softly, looking over at Maura and still trying to steel herself for what she intended to do that night. "There ain't nothin' I wouldn't do for her."

Once all of their farewells were complete, Maura and Jane returned for the last time to the Isles home. Jane had surprised Maura by asking if she could use the tub before her. At home she would typically just go for a dip in the lake (which Maura still declined to do), or gallantly wait for Maura to use their sad little wooden tub first.

It didn't occur to Maura until Jane was alone in the washroom downstairs that this particular tub would be big enough for both of them to use it at the same time.

The temperature in the room might have just spiked up fifty degrees.

Maura undid her jacket as she hurried down the stairs, carelessly flinging it onto the rail once she reached the bottom. _How could I have only just thought of this? It was what I imagined the first time I recognized my feelings for her! _

An odd sense of decorum was the only thing which kept Maura from just barging into the room. "Jane?" she said, her voice sounding a bit strangled.

"Hey Maura, I was just thinkin' of comin' to get ya."

"Y-you were?"

"Yeah. I oughtta let you use this here bathwater first. That'd be the chivalrous thing for me to do in this situation, right?"

Maura was hurriedly undoing the buttons of her stiff striped shirt as she tried to remember to speak. "Well I actually had a thought," she eventually got out, allowing her shirt to fall to the floor. Now wearing only a white camisole to cover her top half, Maura quickly rubbed her arms. "I was thinking perhaps we could…"

The door swung open, and Maura's proposition flew out of her head the moment she saw Jane.

She honestly couldn't believe what she was seeing. This was an image she could not have even conjured in fantasy, because of the fact that it simply never would have occurred to her to dream it up.

It had in fact only occurred to Jane while she had started packing that morning. She had been feeling sorry for tearing Maura's French garments, and also feeling sorry that she didn't think she would ever feel comfortable wearing such things herself, even if it was for Maura's pleasure. It hadn't mattered that she had seen and felt every inch of Maura's body before; there had been some kind of indescribable _jolt _which had shot through her at the sight of Maura in that lingerie. She wanted Maura to be able to experience that same feeling, but at what cost? This thought had crossed her mind while Jane had been packing up the western gear she had brought to wear for riding, which is when she saw her opening.

_Who needs Paris? _were the first words Maura's brain could summon as she stood just outside the washroom's door, unashamedly gaping. Jane was wearing nothing but accessories: boots, chaps, a belt, a vest, gloves, a cross-tie, a hat. All of it was worn exactly as it would be if she were wearing clothes under them, except for the belt. With a bit of maneuvering, Jane had rested it so the empty holster fell between her legs. Only the two bottom buttons of the vest were done, offering a very good view of Jane's rippling abdomen and a hint of her chest. The hat, tie and gloves had been added as a last-minute touch—though they worked to conceal nothing, Jane thought they added a bit of personality. She thought Maura, ever the more fashionable of the two of them, would appreciate the placement of style before function.

It was almost embarrassingly evident that this was having even more of an affect on Maura than Jane had hoped for. Peach was rapidly overtaking cream in Maura's delicate complexion the longer she stared, heat flooding to her face.

"Why, Dr. Isles." Jane couldn't have sounded more smug if she tried. "You're speechless."

She took a few steps towards Maura, falling back into her old role. Hands were placed confidently at her hips and there was a definite swagger to her gait. When she reached the door, she casually stretched one arm up, leaning it against the frame. Her vest fell open slightly, and she smirked when Maura's eyes darted briefly downwards. Jane used her thumb to tip up the underside of her hat.

"Like what you see, doc?" she asked.

And then Maura used two words that Jane had not ever heard her say sequentially: "_Shut up_."

Before Jane had a chance to register her shock at Maura using such a phrase, Maura's hands were curled into the vest, ripping it open as she kissed Jane forcefully. The voracity of the move took Jane completely—deliciously—off guard, and she did not fight back whatsoever when Maura pushed her against the door. Her hat toppled to the floor, followed quickly by her gloves, torn off in impatience as she wanted to feel Maura with her bare hands. Being taken like this was exhilarating in a way Jane was only beginning to appreciate.

A deep moan came burrowing out of her as Maura sank lower, leaving a trail of long, wet kisses on the slice of skin offered between the flaps of Jane's vest. Jane unconsciously thrust her hips forward the lower Maura got until Maura was on her knees, hands pressed tightly to Jane's backside. She gasped softly when she reached Jane's belt, looking down into the holster.

"Nothing there," she got out, reverting her gaze to Jane's eyes.

Jane was already panting for breath, one hand twisting in Maura's hair. "Right," she said. She brushed a finger from her free hand over her mouth. "Nothing here, either. Ready to be your little woman, Maura."

Maura stayed where she was, but kept her gaze fixed on Jane's dark and honest eyes. "I don't need you to be anything," she said, short breaths punctuating her words. "Not anything but Jane Rizzoli."

Jane swallowed hard and gave a short nod. She blinked and Maura was back on her feet, slipping her tongue effortlessly into Jane's mouth while one hand curled around the nape of Jane's neck and the other shoved as far as it could go into the holster, pushing the leather hard between Jane's legs.

When all was said and done, Jane remarked that she probably needed the bath now more than ever unless Maura wanted it first, a suggestion she quickly renounced when Maura proposed taking it together. Ten minutes later, more water wound up being on the floor than in the actual tub, but neither Jane nor Maura felt up to the task of cleaning or refilling. Instead, they were happy to lie in what remained, Maura reclining against a very relaxed Jane.

"Jane?"

Things had gotten so loud and so primal that the quietness, the meekness, in Maura's voice was a moving change. "Yes?" Jane whispered.

"If I tell you something, do you promise not to laugh?"

"Mm…no. But I do promise not to make fun of ya, which is usually what I gather you intend that question to really be askin' about."

"Fair enough," Maura chuckled. She took a moment to compose her thoughts, idly rubbing Jane's arm which was wrapped lazily around her stomach. "Do you remember Thanksgiving?"

"When you got drunk?" Jane laughed. "Kinda hard to forget."

"Yes, uh, you weren't there after you left."

"I—…well, yeah, Maura."

"Wait, sorry. Yes. I mean, I woke up after you brought me back to my apartment, and you had filled up my tub for me, so I took a bath in the middle of the night. And I was still sort of, well, inebriated so I… I was thinking about you."

The lengthy silence that followed this nearly caused Maura to turn around in concern. "You were thinking about me while you bathed?" Jane eventually asked.

Maura shivered at the sound of the deep, husky voice in her ear. "Yes, I was. And I pictured us doing this."

Jane shifted her arm upwards and allowed her other hand to trace Maura's thigh. "This?" she whispered. Maura didn't even have the strength to whimper "yes."

By the time round three ended, Maura felt her brain had melted into something completely useless. Her voice was weak when she finally spoke again: "Do you think the Hughes would mind if we asked them to send this tub to Arizona for us after we leave?"

* * *

**A/N**: So yeah, I did not think that whole trip to Boston would take up so many chapters, but the next update will bring the girls back home to Arizona, which I'm kind of glad about. Some of you have voiced very reasonable concerns about the whole adopting orphans situation, and I just wanted to say that I do have a plan in my head for how that's going to unfold. And it's not going to be right away. please review :)


	16. So Nice to Come Home To

When he learned that his mother was taking the Rizzoli's to the train station, Jackson begged to come along, and then Eleanor did as well because she wanted to do whatever it was her brother did. For once Charlotte threw propriety to the winds, taking it upon herself to presume that Jake and Maura wouldn't mind the extra company—which turned out to be entirely true, of course. Jane had offered to ride in back with the children, and Maura couldn't help glimpsing over her shoulder at them every now and then.

It was suddenly clear to Maura that even if little Eleanor didn't recognize the feelings for what they were, she was experiencing her first love. All during the Rizzoli's visit to Boston, Eleanor had appeared very shy, never quite looking Jane in the eye. Now there definitely seemed to be some heavy but harmless adoration in that gaze as she giggled at all of Jane's jokes, listening intently. Maura still might not have been sure if Eleanor hadn't gone the extra mile and blushingly given Jane a daisy which Jane naturally made a big fuss over before tucking it safely though one of the open button holes on her jacket.

A porter came to help with their luggage once they reached the station, giving them all time for their goodbyes. As Charlotte and Maura talked, Jane helped the kids out of the carriage and got on one knee to be closer to their eye level.

"Jackson, I've got something for ya," Jane said, reaching into her jacket's interior pocket. The boy looked on with bated breath as Jane kept her hand in place, not yet revealing the gift. "But you've gotta promise me one thing if you really want it."

"I'll do it, I don't care what it is!"

"Promise you're gonna be a good boy and write your grandmother every week once ya move away."

"Is it all right if my mother helps me?"

"Yes, it's all right."

"Then I promise!"

Chuckling at the boy's excitement, Jane pulled out a silver-plated, five-point star. The word "deputy" was emblazoned across the front, and Jane tipped it carefully into Jackson's palm. "Y'know what that says?" she asked.

"It's your deputy badge!" he gasped.

"That's right."

"You're _giving _it to me?" It might have been a gold mine.

"Sure, I can get another one," Jane chuckled. "I want you to have this one. Know why? 'Cause I know you'll honor it and everything it stands for. Protect. Build. Accomplish."

As Jane went on to enumerate the many qualities the badge was symbolic of to her captivated audience, Charlotte said, "Jackson spent half the night begging me to take him to Arizona to visit you two sometime."

Maura's response of "Oh, you must!" was automatic and instantly regretted.

Charlotte smiled faintly. "That's sweet of you to offer, Maura, but I don't think it will happen. We haven't the time before we leave for Europe, if we want to meet the Davises in Italy before they return. I hope you're not offended?"

"Oh, of course not!" Maura said, trying not to sound too relieved. "We understand. And besides, we live in a very small town—it's not a particularly exciting place for outsiders to visit, I shouldn't think. I'd rather Jackson's vision of the West remain as open and romantic as he believes it to be."

They watched as Jane pulled from her pocket a small slingshot she had finished making this morning. "So it isn't all like the Wild West shows say?" Charlotte asked.

"Not quite," Maura sighed. "Jake and I have been very blessed in our lives, but I do confess to worrying about him constantly. Being a deputy is no easy or safe task, Charlotte. He puts his life in danger every day trying to make the West a more habitable place. I'd be a liar if I said it didn't scare me."

"And Maura Isles has always been anything but a liar," Charlotte said with a sad smile. She waved when Jackson looked over and told her to watch.

Jane held her arms at the ready, and at Jackson's cue snarled, "This town ain't big enough for the two of us!"

"You're darn right, scoundrel!" Jackson drawled, trying his best to sound and look intimidating. "Reach for the skies!"

But instead, Jane pretended to reach for her gun, cuing Jackson to pull back his empty slingshot and fire it, saying "ka-pew!" in a high-pitched voice. In what Charlotte called a performance worthy of Buffalo Bill's show, Jane fell to her knees with a subdued howl, clutching at her heart. "Ya got me!" she cried, hovering weakly as Jackson stuck his slingshot into his belt.

"Oh, Jake!" Eleanor cried, running forward and putting her arms around Jane's neck. "You were so brave!"

It took a moment for Jane to remember to respond. Although Jackson had been adulatory and bright-eyed towards her from the start, he had never tried holding her like this. In fact, Jane couldn't remember the last time a child had shown affection for her like this, possibly not even when she herself was one. Although it was all part of their little game, Jane found herself able to physically, noticeably feel the love Eleanor was transferring to her. A surprising amount of strength was required for Jane to reach over and pat the girl tenderly on the arm.

"It's all right, darlin'," she said. "Don't you cry for me."

"Gosh, Jake!" Jackson laughed. "Papa won't ever play with us like you do! I wish you were our dad, not him."

It had just been a throwaway comment that had escaped him, but Jane took it very seriously. She sat up a little straighter, and though her hand was on Eleanor's shoulder, she was looking Jackson straight in the eye as she addressed him: "Don't you go saying stuff like that, Jackson. There are some things in life we just can't change, and family's one of 'em, for better or worse."

"So what do we do?" Jackson asked a little miserably.

"You choose what type of man _you _want to grow up to be," Jane answered him seriously. "You can be like your father, or your Uncle Jesse, or even me. You've got lots of choices to pick from, and at such a young age, you've already got an idea of what you want! Ain't that something great?"

She could see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to figure it out. "I _guess_ so."

"Sure. Oh hey, I almost forgot." Jane could tell that after seeing her brother get two gifts, Eleanor wanted something as well, but was too much of a little lady to ask outright for it. Jane had the perfect idea. The other night, a turquoise stone had come loose from one of Jane's boots, and Maura had turned it into a brooch which Jane was now pulling carefully out of her pants pocket. "This here's for you, Eleanor."

The little girl gasped at the unique beauty of the stone, never having seen anything like it. "It's so lovely!"

"Just like you," Jane said, giving her a wink and squeeze of the shoulder before finally getting to her feet.

The Graham children eagerly looked at each other's gifts as Jane bid their mother goodbye and good luck. Once they had boarded the train, Jane and Maura leaned out the window of their private compartment to wave, the Grahams vigorously returning the motion until the train had pulled out of sight. When Jane went to sit down, Maura remained at the window, unblinking eyes soaking in as much of the passing scenery as she could.

"Was it hard the first time?" Jane finally asked.

Maura stayed at the window. "What, leaving Boston?"

"Yeah."

"In a way, yes. I'm glad we came back, though. It really just reaffirmed that I'd made the right choice." She sighed heavily, still not going to sit down. "After I made up my mind to move out West, I thought of something my mother once told me: if you have to leave some place you have lived in and loved, leave it any way you can. Any way but a slow way." She sighed again, and this time finally moved to sit on the cloth-covered seat opposite of Jane. "So I hurried out when I got the chance." Her hands twisted in her lap as she shrugged. "It was nice to really be able to say goodbye."

"Nice," Jane snorted. "You think this trip was nice?"

Maura caught her eye, noting that Jane's tone was teasing but her point was not without merit. "Not entirely, perhaps."

"You don't think you'll ever come back?"

"I don't. Perhaps I would if I thought we could come together, but …we can't, Jane. We couldn't."

"Why?"

Looking surprised at the genuine surprise in Jane's tone, Maura said, "Well, I just meant that if we ever …it's complicated, Jane. I think we've gotten a little carried away here."

"How do ya mean?" Jane asked anxiously.

Maura leaned forward, taking Jane's hands in her own in an attempt to soothe her. "I love you, Jane. I love you so much, and you know that. I've also loved getting to see you interact with Charlotte's children. And I do feel so sure that you and I were meant, in some way, to be mothers. That much seems _so obvious _to me, but I don't…"

Misreading the reason for Maura's hesitancy, Jane said, "We don't have to do this right away, Maura. Okay? There ain't no hurry."

"That isn't it," Maura said a little breathlessly. "Jane, _think _about this. What would we tell him? About us?"

"I dunno, what d'you mean?"

"Jane! I mean, we have to go around making everyone believe we are nothing more than very close friends. Your family, our friends, everyone. But a child is different—how could we raise one up and keep hidden, keep secret, from him the most precious thing shared by his parents? How could we in good conscience take in a child only to lie to him?"

It was clear by Jane's expression that she hadn't really thought of this, and she scrambled to justify it. "Is this all on your mind 'cause of your dad? I mean until he died, he kept a real big secret from you, a secret about your real father. But I thought you were doing okay with that!"

"Jane, I'll be fine, but think of the heartache he must have gone through! He must have had to struggle every day not to say something, to let it slip. He made a daily choice to be dishonest with me, and we would have to do the exact same thing if we ever adopted children!"

"Maura, we wouldn't be lying every day," Jane said steadily, gripping her hands. "We'd be _protecting _those kids every day. Someone couldn't take care of 'em, and we can! What's it matter how they see us, as long as they _have _us?"

"You don't understand, Jane, I'm still trying to handle all of this. The man I grew up respecting above all others spent over twenty years lying to me!"

"To protect you! Maura, he loved you!"

"I know—"

"Then that's all that should matter!"

"It isn't!"

Jane pulled her hands away. "So what're you saying, Maura? You've lost all respect for him because of this?"

"Not _all _respect, no—"

"That's real shabby, Maura. That man suffered a lot for you, and he deserves your respect. It ain't his fault your mother went and did what she did, and he tried his damndest to give you the life he thought you deserved."

"Don't _patronize _me_, _Jane!" Maura said a bit loudly. "I know what he did for me, I know what he gave up for me!"

"Then don't hate him for what he did," Jane said, and her tone was suddenly sad, as if she had been the one who grew up knowing Desmond Isles. "He ain't the one who did you wrong, Maura. He's the one who stayed and gave you a good life." She searched Maura's face for clues to what she was thinking, but the doctor's gaze was downcast and difficult to read. "C'mon, sweetheart," Jane said gently. "You're the one who was so excited about it."

Maura's voice was so soft, Jane almost lost it in the sound of the churning train wheels. "I know. I just—I want it _so _badly, Jane. And I want it for you, _with _you."

"Kids?"

"Parenthood."

Jane reached for Maura's hands again, able to take only one because Maura was trying to stave off tears with the other. "What would you have thought if your father told ya about all this face-to-face?"

"I don't know," Maura mumbled. "And I never will. But even if I did, you're right. He covered up for my mother, he didn't do anything wrong himself. We…"

"We're the ones doing something wrong," Jane guessed quietly.

"No, Jane, it's not wrong," Maura insisted, and there was enough conviction in her tone to convince Jane. "Don't say that. I only mean we're the ones that… well, we're the ones who do have to keep what we're doing a secret. And what if we _do _find an orphan? What will people say? They'll say that one of us ought to get married so the child can have a father, too. Won't they? Won't they find it strange that we want to raise one ourselves?"

With a sigh, Jane dropped Maura's hand and stood up, pacing around their small compartment. "Nobody thought it was strange when Angela brought up me and the boys."

"Well that was different. You said you still lived in your own house, and Angela had been helping to watch you all since your mother died. Besides, she was a widow herself. Neither of us has ever married, and we would be bringing the child up in our home!"

"Right! Yes! Why is that wrong?"

"Jane, I'm not saying _I _think it is; I just know other people are going t—"

"When the hell have you ever cared what other people thought?" Jane cried. "Jesus, Maura, I mean I know we haven't had this relationship out in the open, but that's a whole other deal. You're a woman, and you're a doctor! Your mother raised hell in Boston when she lived there, but you soldiered through it! How can—when have you ever let what other people thought stopped you from doing something you _really_ wanted?" When Maura's mouth fell and she could not think of a reply, Jane felt justified in asking, "Is that just an excuse?"

That finally got Maura on her feet. "How could you say that?" she whispered, tears stinging her eyes. "You know how important this is to me, Jane!" Jane's softened expression was enough to communicate that yes, she did. "Please, just be patient with me. I want to do right by however many children we get."

"We will," Jane murmured. It was so hard to be skeptical of anything Jane said when her tone was so fervent. "It's like ya said before. They'll know they're loved. And they'll know that we… well, that we cared more about each other than we did about any men who asked to marry us. Leave it at that."

Maura sank wearily back down onto the seat, shuddering slightly. "Is it enough?"

After a long pause, Jane sat next to her, putting an arm around Maura and kissing her forehead. "It'll have to be," she said. "I promised I was gonna give ya everything you wanted and everything you deserved, Maura Isles. Kids are part of the deal. Okay?"

Maura nodded weakly. "Okay, but… well, if that ever happens, we can't all come back to Boston. Everyone here thinks you're a man, and you don't want our children to ever be confused about who you are."

"Yeah," Jane conceded. "Yeah, that's true." She shrugged. "Eh, who needs Boston anyway? Whole town's crawling with snakes, if you ask me."

"Certainly true, in its own way," Maura admitted. "Although I never would have thought to phrase it that way myself. Oh, Jane…" This time when she sighed, it was a tired sound, not an aggravated one. "Who would've thought. When I last took this train ride, I had no idea what to expect. I knew only that I'd be with Garrett. But I had no idea what Arizona would truly be like. And I certainly never anticipated meeting a creature like you."

Jane chuckled, and there was a hint of self-satisfaction to it. "Threw you for one helluva loop, didn't I?"

"That's putting it lightly." Maura closed her eyes for a moment, leaning fully back on the seat and remembering back to that fateful train ride. She had been so excited to get out West, to meet new people and start a new chapter of her life. When Jake Wyatt had entered her coach, she had been intrigued more than she had been scared. "Jane, do you remember the day we met?"

"Of course."

"Why did you cave so quickly?"

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean, why did you own up to your identity so quickly?"

"Well if memory serves, my trusty mustache had decided to go ahead and fail on me."

"Yes, but you could have still lied. You could have, I don't know, still even pretended you were a man and I most likely would have believed you due to your clothes alone. Instead you told me your name, you told me you posed as this fearsome outlaw, even though you knew I was headed to live in your old hometown." She looked over at Jane, whose countenance appeared slightly puzzled. "Why'd you do it?"

It took a moment for Jane to respond. "I don't know," she said, sounding baffled by her own answer. "I really don't. I hadn't ever gotten in so good with a woman, Maura. I never really cared for 'em that much. You was different somehow. It wasn't just that you had class, but you… I dunno, there was a look in your eye. You were curious, not disgusted. And it was honest curiosity, not like the kind I'd come up against when Jake met women. I just knew I could trust you."

"And I found you fascinating," Maura said. "Because you _really _didn't care what people thought of you. I act like I don't, but it still hurts sometimes. You'd grown beyond that. You were really your own person, which I hadn't been able to say about anyone before I'd met you. Garrett might have made his money honestly and on his own, but he had to ingratiate himself to a number of people to do it."

"Well what about your mother?"

"She didn't care what high society thought of her, but she was always playing a part. She needs attention; she always adhered to the conduct of other social reprobates."

"It's funny, Maura," Jane remarked. "I never really thought about it till now, why I told ya so much. Being with you always just felt so…" She waved her hand a little, trying to settle on the right word. She might have just let the sentence trail off, but Maura had turned to look expectantly at her again. "Effortless." That satisfied them both. "Of course…"

Maura sat up a little. "What?"

"It got a little more complicated once I got to know you better, and I realized I didn't like not bein' around ya. What we've got goin' now, well, I reckon it takes work."

"All marriages do."

"Right," Jane sighed, moving her ring from her left hand back onto her right. "All marriages do."

* * *

Maura didn't think she had ever seen Jane more excited than when they finally rolled into the Mesa train station a few days later. While she got the impression that Jane had found the change of scenery in Boston interesting, there was no question that she belonged out here in a wide open space. It was almost sad to see her get forced from the train right into a coach that would take them home. During the entire ride she was utterly restless, barely humoring Maura in her attempt to discuss some of the philosophies presented in _Jane Eyre_. Finally Maura gave up on that front, deciding to go for something that might be a little more relevant.

"Would you like to drop by your brothers' house later?" Maura asked.

"What? No," Jane answered. "I gotta get out, Maura."

"Out where?"

"I dunno, any place. I been cooped up too long."

Such was Jane's determination to get outside that she asked the coach driver to drop her off at the ranch and just leave the baggage at the house. Maura got off as well, not wanting to be left behind, but she walked a little more gracefully towards the barn than Jane, who had shot for it like a bullet.

"You wanna go for a ride?" Jane asked, grinning.

"Certainly."

Jane stepped in front of Maura to prevent her from collecting Wind Whistler. "Then you'd better just change and double up with me. Otherwise you ain't gonna be able to keep up."

"Oh, is that so?" Maura asked in a teasing tone of voice.

"Uh, yup. Quite frankly, that is so."

Normally Maura might have taken this up as a challenge, but Jane's buoyancy made it clear that an argument—even a lighthearted one—would be fruitless. She supposed it was a further testament to Jane's determination to get on a horse that not even the sight of Maura undressing could deter her. Still, she did watch very closely (like she always did) as Maura removed her many layers of skirts, storing them in a box she kept in the barn. The lavender blouse remained part of her ensemble as she fastened on the split skirt Adelaide had crafted for her long ago. She smiled as Jane brought her own horse out of its stable. It had been a while since they'd tried riding together, and it was hard to say why.

They saddled up, and Maura held on tight as Jane spurred the horse out of the corral as fast as a train. It wasn't long before Jane started whooping in pure free ecstasy, delighting in the endless wilderness that wordlessly encouraged people to come as they were. Keep your paved roads and your streets cramped with too many buildings. Keep your quiet citizens and your subdued animals.

_ This _was what life was about: a horse thundering beneath you, with the love of your life wrapping her arms tightly around you. If you were lucky, she might even join in the wordless war cries with you. The only sounds were your voices mingling together, backed by your horse's hooves pounding the dirt and the wind whistling past your ears. Orchestrated together, it was better than any symphony you might hear in a Boston concert hall. More than ever, Jane was convinced that this was the stuff which made a person feel alive. Not money, not nice suits, not a steady job. Whatever made your heart race with excitement and anticipation, whatever made you want to go a hundred miles an hour—that was the stuff that dreams were made of.

Initially Maura had assumed that Jane was just trying to get all this pent-up energy out of her system, figuring they would eventually just circle back home. But they rode on endlessly, never slowing down, never getting to a point where they could even potentially share words. Eventually Maura realized Jane was taking her the long way to and around Sparrow Lake, the other side of which was more easily reached by boat.

The sun was starting to set by the time they finally reached the little alcove where Jane had proposed to her. Although she hadn't exactly been the one doing all the work, Jane was breathing heavily when she pulled on the reins for the horse to stop. Still, an intensely satisfied sigh came out of her as she swiftly dismounted.

"You know, I never would have expected this of you the first day we met," Maura said, still sitting loftily on top of the winded horse.

"What's that?" Jane asked.

"That you, Jake Wyatt-Jane Rizzoli, are an incurable romantic," Maura replied, sounding a little smug.

Jane laughed and held out her arms, helping Maura to get off the horse. "It wasn't even my plan to come here at first," she said, taking Maura's hand and leading the way down the grassy knoll towards the water. "I was just goin', and then we kinda wound up here." She set herself down, sighing contentedly again. "Boy it feels good to be home, Maura."

"It does, doesn't it?" Maura agreed.

Before they could get too comfortable, Jane said, "Just one thing." She pulled the mustache that had served them so well in Boston out of her shirt pocket, handing it to Maura. "Toss it," she instructed.

Maura played along, then jumped when Jane whipped out her gun and shot straight through the thin stage hair.

"Gone," Jane whispered. She shifted over so that she was straddling Maura, dropping the gun on the grass next to them. "Along with…" Sitting up a little, she took one of Maura's hands and guided it between her legs. Then she pushed back down, kissing Maura and moaning in satisfaction. Maura was eager to reciprocate, brushing her other hand down Jane's neck and along her shoulder. They hadn't fooled around on the train at all, and she had missed this.

Too soon, Jane broke off their kiss with an "mmph, wait."

"What is it?" Maura asked breathlessly.

"Somethin' I wanted to show ya the next time we uh, did this," Jane said, sitting up a little. "I got it real early in our last morning in Boston. Sun wasn't even up yet, and neither were you. I couldn't sleep, though, so I left a note in case ya woke up before I got back from the docks."

"The docks? What on earth could you get there?"

By way of response, Jane unbuttoned her red gingham top and flung it carelessly onto the grass. She rolled up the right sleeve of her undershirt until it rested on top of her shoulder, baring her entire arm. There, just by her shoulder, was a small but easily decipherable _M_, tattooed in black ink.

"You got yourself tattooed?" Maura gasped, her fingers tracing over the letter in awe.

"I went and got myself branded," Jane chuckled. "I don't ever wear my sleeves up like this, so nobody'll ever see it but you. I figured it's as good a reminder as my ring."

"Of what?"

"Of the fact that I need to remember I ain't just in this life for myself anymore. Everything I do, every choice I make, affects other people—but you're the person I care most about my actions affecting. You'll let me know when I do somethin' stupid, right?"

"Like get a tattoo?" Maura asked, though she was smiling.

"Aw, c'mon, Maura! Don't ya think it looks good?"

"Dashing. But you know, Jane, the body _is _a temple…"

Jane grinned before bearing down on her for another kiss. "Nag, nag, nag…"

* * *

**A/N**: Part of me feels like maybe I put so much fluff in here because there was so little time for Rizzles in the first installment of this story. I realize that's detrimental for some of you, but I hope this is still enjoyable for others. There's still a lot to be dealt with regarding the Boston trip, and of course catching up with what's gone on at home while they've been gone.


	17. Heartache

_I could get used to waking up like this_, Jane thought lazily to herself the next morning.

She was lying in bed on her stomach, cheek resting on the pillow. She was back on her sheets, in her own room, in her own house, in her own blessed town. But her pleasure lay in more than this familiarity: Maura was straddling her waist, neither of them wearing a single garment. Maura grinned to herself as she kneaded her hands slowly down Jane's back and her ministrations were rewarded with a low, appreciative moan. She pretended to gasp, leaning down and kissing the nape of Jane's neck.

"It wakes," she teased, bringing her palms up to massage Jane's shoulders. "Mm… you're very tense, dear."

Jane was indeed tense from head to toe, but only in the most wonderful of ways. She breathed in deeply as Maura's hair brushed between her shoulder blades and a sort of wet heat began noticeably concentrating atop the small of her back. They had never been positioned like this before, and later (her mind was too frazzled at the moment to think about anything else) Jane would marvel at he fact that it hadn't occurred to one of them to try something like it earlier.

"Harder," she growled, fingers clutching tightly at the sheets.

Maura laughed softly, and Jane wondered if the woman could feel the shiver that had gone down her spine at the sound.

"Patience, Calamity Jane."

"Mmph. Didn't anyone ever tell you, Dr. Isles? I don't _do _patience."

"Oh? Then what's this?" Maura asked, rubbing circles down Jane's back again. "Compliance?"

"Laziness," Jane yawned.

"Is that so?" Maura chuckled. "Are you this shut-down on the job, deputy, or am I just lucky?"

Jane sighed heavily. Maura was planning to draw this out for as long as possible, but Jane wasn't in the mood. She needed to be satiated. "Well, doc, part of my job is to know when people are bluffing. Y'know, when they're talkin' big." She rolled her hips up off the bed, smirking when she heard Maura vainly attempt to stifle a gasp at the unexpected surge of contact. "You ain't half as patient as me, are ya, Dr. Isles?"

Maura fought for a second or two before answering. "Not at the moment, no."

What followed was an exhilarating exploration of new pleasures, heretofore never even dreamed about by either woman. A thin sheen of sweat covered them both in what Maura assumed had to be record time, but she held firm her position. She liked having a clear view of her initial tattooed on Jane's shoulder—the way it moved with each of Jane's thrusts, how the ink looked wet and fresh thanks to the sweat Jane had built up so quickly.

"I think I want one," she said later, as they lay side by side half under the sheets, her finger delicately tracing the tattoo.

Jane had to summon enough breath to chuckle. "Oh no you don't. It hurt like hell. Whatever hell the people in hell have to go to when they're in trouble. _That _much hell."

"Nine levels deep?"

"Sure," Jane chuckled. "Nine levels deep of hell."

"Well it was sweet of you to willingly put yourself through that on my account," Maura said, giving the tattoo a gentle kiss.

Jane laughed again, reaching for Maura's knee beneath the sheet. "I wasn't dressed too fancy when I went to get it. The guy doin' it said he'd draw me anything I wanted, and he showed me a bunch of stuff he'd illustrated—a showgirl, a big cat, a sea monster…" She turned her head enough to grin at Maura. "A naked mermaid. She kinda looked a lot like you between her neck and navel, actually."

"Cad!" Maura laughed, giving Jane's shoulder a light slap. "Was he disappointed when you told him you only wanted a letter?"

"Who says I didn't get the mermaid, too?" Jane couldn't resist asking, waggling her eyebrows.

Maura smiled smugly back at her. "Says I, Calamity Jane, because I've seen and thoroughly enjoyed every inch of your skin since we got back. No mermaids."

"Ha, ha, no mermaids," Jane conceded. "Yeah, he was disappointed at first. But then I told him I was gettin' the letter for my wife, and he thought that was the livin' end! Any wife who approved of her husband gettin' a tattoo was alright in his book, he said."

Although they shared a laugh over the comment, they were both quick to sober up at its implications.

In a lot of ways, the trip to Boston had been hellish in a manner not even Dante could have aptly described. Relentless emotional upheaval had been accompanied by threats of physical harm for both of them. And yet, something wonderful had managed to permeate their otherwise gloomy trip to the east coast from start to finish. It was a tremendous gift taken for granted by most who had it: simple validation of their relationship. Perceived as a married couple, they had been cause for disdain in the eyes of Rory and Mr. Hughes, and possible jealousy in Anne's. But Charlotte's selfless admiration was worth ten times all of that. There was no question in anyone's minds regarding the meaning of looks or gentle touches exchanged between the Rizzoli's. It was taken as fact that there had been a wedding, that their friends knew, that their shared bed was home to more than companionable sleep.

It was glaringly obvious that these were two people who were deeply in love.

Constance's full approval had been very meaningful, no matter how little Jane thought of her or how betrayed Maura had felt by her. She was the only person in Boston to know Jane and Maura's relationship for what it was, and it did not horrify her. In fact, she had seemed pleased.

_ We should be so lucky if just one person here would be guaranteed to feel the same way_, Maura thought sadly to herself. An unpleasant foreboding feeling rose up in her stomach as her thoughts turned to Angela.

Jane gave Maura's knee one more squeeze before getting up out of bed, saying she'd better get herself down to the Sheriff's office to let Korsak know she was back. Maura watched her get dressed, not with lust or excitement, but with that still-panging sense of dread. Seconds were spilling by in which she could just blurt it out and tell Jane that Angela was in the know, but Maura held her tongue. This was a delicate issue, and she had to have time to plan just the right way to tell Jane about it. No doubt Jane would be upset that Maura had been keeping something of this magnitude from her, so that would be something else Maura had to worry about: properly diffusing the bomb so she wouldn't risk detonating another one.

_ Why didn't I plan something to say while we were on that train ride? Stupid!_

Now fully dressed, Jane came back to the bed to give Maura's forehead a kiss. She couldn't help noticing the woman looked beyond glum. "Maura? You okay? You don't look so good."

"Stomach ache," Maura muttered, rubbing the area. It wasn't exactly a lie.

"You don't get stomach aches," Jane laughed, never having heard Maura use such pedestrian terms for anything related to medicine. "You get… what was it, gastro… stomach-opalitis aches…!"

"Gastralgia."

Noting that Maura hadn't even been able to attempt smiling at the joke, Jane frowned again. "Okay, from what?"

"Stress." She shrugged.

Jane nodded. There were a number of things Maura could be stressed about at the moment, stemming anywhere from the very intense trip they'd just taken to worrying about how behind she'd be at work. "You wanna talk about it?" she offered quietly.

_Not just now, no_. Maura shook her head.

"Okay," Jane said, her voice soft with understanding. "Are you gonna be all right to go into work today?"

"Maybe. I don't know."

"You want me to stay with ya?"

Maura reached out for Jane's arm and gave it a quick squeeze. "No, it's all right. I'll be fine."

Jane was not entirely convinced, but she wasn't sure what more she could do if Maura didn't feel up to talking. "All right," she said with more kiss, getting to her feet. "I'll come around later to check up on ya if you're still here, all right?" When Maura only nodded again, Jane sighed sadly and walked to the door of the room. She turned and leaned against the frame. "Maura?"

"Yes?"

They held each other's gaze for a moment before Jane spoke. "I'm real glad I went with ya."

She was finally able to manage something of an honest smile. "I am too, Jane. I needed you there. I'm glad you came."

And it was true, Jane thought as she walked down the road towards town. It had been good to see where Maura had grown up, to be in her house for a while. It had even been nice to see a portrait of Mr. Isles so she could now put a face to his name.

About two hundred yards outside of the corral, Jane saw her loyal dog tearing up the road to greet her. Korsak had been kind enough to keep an eye on Jo and Bass while their owners were out of town, and of the two pets, Jo had definitely shown the most outwardly obvious grief. Her melancholy had been just as irrefutable as her joy was now, with Jane laughingly bending down low enough for Jo to be able to jump in her arms.

"Hey girl! Did ya miss me? Huh? I sure missed you somethin' terrible."

She looked up to see Korsak walking over. He had been on hand to witness the whole scene, having just come from the corral himself. "Sweet reunion there, Jane."

"I missed my girl," Jane said, giving Jo's head a rough but affectionate ruffle before setting her down. Jo barked and ran in small circles around Jane's feet. "Thanks for keepin' an eye on her for me, Korsak."

"Well if I wouldn't have done it for you, I'd have done it out of loyalty to Jo's mother."

"Oh yeah! I forgot she was one of yours," Jane laughed, and they all started walking down to the corral together. "Gosh, Korsak, that sure was a while ago that I got her."

"I remember," Korsak chuckled. "That was Dr. Isles' first day in town, wasn't it?"

"Say, it was! How about that, Jo?" Jane asked, nodding down at her dog. Jo kept running ahead, looking over her should to make sure Jane was still close behind. "I've had ya for as long as I've known the doc! Ain't that somethin'?"

Actually, she found it a little strange that this had never occurred to her before. Jane bent down and picked Jo up again, holding her close, and Jo did not hold back from giving her a wealth of slobbery dog kisses. Jane never thought her adoration for Josephine March Friday could be greater than it already was, but it surged dramatically with the realization that she had come into her life on the same day as Maura Isles. Jo had in fact instigated much of their early conversation and relationship, and had weathered it out with them through its entirety thus far.

_Bless dogs for lovin' ya no matter what_, Jane thought. Once they reached the corral, she set the dog down again, but Jo stayed close.

"Well Jane, I'll want to be hearing all about your trip," Korsak said, clapping her on the shoulder. "But truth is, I was just headed over to the station when I saw Jo Friday speedin' up the road like a bullet. You comin' in to work today?"

"Sure thing, Sheriff."

"Good man. Er, woman. Uh…"

"Deputy."

"That's my girl," he chuckled. Nodding at the small building at the end of the corral, he added, "Angela's in there, by the way. I'm sure she'd love to have you stop by and say hello."

"Right. Sure thing, Sheriff."

"Good to have you back, deputy."

"Thank you, sir."

They went their separate ways, Korsak down the road into town and Jane into the tiny cottage-like structure where Angela was to be found washing some equipment. She looked up when Jane opened the door, then quickly dropped her rag and hurried over for an embrace.

"Janie, you're back!"

"Hey, Ma."

"And so soon!"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Soon for you, I mean," Angela said, finally pulling back. "I'm still getting used to the idea of you coming back at all." Her tone was rueful, not bitter or accusatory, and it was this coupled with the maternal way in which she was patting Jane's shoulders that kept Jane from being affronted. The woman had a point. Still, Jane mumbled something and awkwardly pulled herself out of Angela's grip. That was par for the course as far as Angela was concerned: Jane had never really liked hugs. "So, Janie. How was the trip?"

"Uh…informative."

It dawned on her just then that she really ought to have had a more in-depth conversation about all this with Maura before she actually left the house. They needed to agree on a story to share, one that Maura would be able to tell convincingly without feeling faint. It certainly didn't feel right to indulge any secrets without Maura's permission, and Jane wondered if the stomach ache had distracted Maura from making a point of what they'd tell people.

"Informative?" Angela asked, sounding appropriately curious.

"Yeah," Jane said, averting her gaze and poking at an old pair of spurs. "Y'know, it was real interesting to see the world Maura grew up in."

"East coast is a sight different from the desert, huh?"

Jane was able to hear the smile in Angela's tone, and when she looked up it was confirmed. She had forgotten that Angela had actually been born and raised in New York—true it hadn't been in as fine a city as Maura's part of Boston, but it was still the east. It was strange to think of Angela as belonging anywhere else than the frontier.

"You didn't see any of the Fairfields there, did you? I remember Maura telling me Garrett had some brothers."

"His family moved," Jane said brusquely, dropping her eyes again. "They're all in Europe, or at least not in the same circle as Maura's neighbors anymore. That's who we spent time with, mostly. Her old neighbors."

"Nice folks?"

Jane shrugged, not wanting to get into it. "Some of 'em."

Rarely one to hesitate before she spoke, Angela plowed on, knowing this was a conversation she and Jane had to have at some point and not knowing how to prepare for it. Nothing to do but dive right in. "You know, Joseph Grant came by to visit town the other day."

"My condolences to the town."

"Jane! He asked where you were, and when I said you were with Maura visiting Boston, well …he seemed to think Maura wouldn't want to come back."

"Why not?"

"Well Janie, try to see it from his point of view. There are other towns out here a little more sophisticated than we are, a little more similar to the places Maura grew up in. And her fiancé, the reason she came out here in the first place is gone."

"She came out here to be a legitimate doctor," Jane countered. "I mean yeah, sure, maybe she wouldn't have thought of it if Fairfield hadn't already been here, but she had ideas too, Ma. She had her own dreams, and those haven't changed just 'cause Fairfield ain't here anymore."

"Don't get snippy with me!" Angela said, sounding tired and putting her hands up in defeat. "I'm only repeating what Joseph said, and not without merit, in my opinion."

"What? Ma, what're you saying? You wish Maura had stayed out there?"

"No, I'm just… while you were there, did you get the feeling that there were maybe some men who might've been interested in stepping in where Mr. Fairfield failed?"

Jane felt her heart sinking in fear, confirming what she had been worrying about lately: everyone had been giving Maura space to grieve over Garrett's sudden departure, but the time was up now. People would want to know why she hadn't moved on to somebody else.

"Ma, what? C'mon…"

"She's a lovely girl, Jane! She's beautiful and she's educated and she's kind, and girls like that don't come up every day!"

"No, Ma, there weren't any men in Boston who tried to step in where they didn't belong! We made it clear Maura wasn't interested in—"

"'We,' sweetheart? What was your role in all this?" When Jane only pursed her lips, trying desperately to explain her feelings, Angela gently said, "You need to let her go, Jane."

"Wh—_what?_"

No matter how good her intentions had been, Angela would never know how deeply that comment had ruptured Jane's spirit. She stepped closer to where Jane stood frozen in hurt disbelief. "I'm not saying you two shouldn't still be friends, but… Jane, she's been willing to give up so much for you. You're thirty years old, and I understand you have… needs."

"_Needs? _Ma, stop!" Jane cried, brushing away tears that had come out of nowhere. "What're you saying?"

"I saw you, Jane! I saw the two of you the night before you left for Boston!"

"What d'you mean you saw us? Saw us wh…"

Angela sighed shortly when realization dawned on Jane's features. "Your front door was open, and you were _kissing_, Jane. A kiss between friends is nothing, but that's not what I saw. You two were…" She waved her hand, trying to come up with a way to describe what she'd seen, which was getting rapidly more difficult as she felt her own tears starting to blur her vision and emotion clog her throat.

Jane had been cornered in more life-threatening situations than she could count, but this was a whole different ball game, and one she did not feel remotely equipped for. The panic in her voice certainly proved that: "Ma, stop! You don't understand—"

"Oh, have I had it with that excuse!" Angela interrupted. "You don't think I'll ever understand, Jane! That's what you've said nearly your whole life, and you've used it to shut me out every time I _try _to understand! Well I'll have you know that this time I _do _understand everything! Maura told me!"

"Maura _told _you? She told you what?"

"She came running after me once I saw it. I guess you stayed home, for some reason. But she explained everything."

"Ev-_every_thing?"

"Yes. She says she has no intention of ever getting married so long as you stay with her. She said you two… fulfilled each others' _needs _on every level."

"Okay, Ma, you wanna understand? Fine," Jane said, resting her fists at her waist and stepping closer to Angela.

But she couldn't do it. She couldn't bring herself to talk frankly about needs like sex, and the many ways Maura filled them for her. That was the point though, wasn't it? Angela must have thought this was all this was about, and she needed to be corrected on that point. Graphic detail was unnecessary, but this was no time for euphemisms.

Jane squared herself up again. "This ain't purely about physical satisfaction, Ma. I ain't sure exactly what it is you've got in your head, but you need to understand that, or you'll never understand me. You're right; I'm just about thirty years old and I ain't ever been with a man. I've kissed 'em before, but never more'n that, 'cause I didn't ever wanna go further. I didn't ever feel more'n friendship for 'em, but I feel _everything _for Maura. I need her, Ma. I do."

"But Janie—"

"Ma. I ain't gonna have this conversation with you if you can't see that much."

"You just don't know what you're missing," Angela pleaded with her. "Neither of you do! I don't think Maura's ever had a friend as close as you, Jane, and likewise. Her loyalty's misplaced."

"It's _misplaced_?"

"There are things a man can offer her that you just can't, Jane, you can't!"

"Dammit, Angela, you think I don't know that?!" Jane yelled, her collected reserve gone. "You think it didn't ever keep me up nights worryin', or that she and I never talked about it? Huh? You think this is somethin' we just thought we'd try 'cause it'd be simple, it'd be easy? No!"

Having never been on the end of this particular brand of anger, Angela was put way off guard but tried to stand her ground. "Jane Clementine Rizzoli, you need to calm yourself down! I'm not saying you're doing anything cruel on purpose. I think just the opposite is true. You _want _to be happy, I know that, and I know you _want _Maura to be happy, too. But you need to open your eyes. You need to see the big picture! Down the road, Maura will want more. She deserves more, and deep down I think you know that."

Angela stopped when Jane let out a short sob. It had never been her intent to make Jane cry; she had in fact never seen her like this except the morning after her father had died. It broke her heart to know she was the one causing this, but she was determined to express what she fervently believed was ultimately the right thing. What she didn't know and never would know was that she had called out the biggest fear which had haunted Jane since the first time she and Maura had kissed.

_ She deserves better than me_.

Maura had helped convince her this wasn't true, but hearing someone else voice that opinion caused more physical pain than any words that had ever been thrown Jane's way before. Her throat was burning and her insides felt ready to burst in protest of the pain. When she had gathered enough breath and enough energy to speak again, her voice was extremely weak and higher-pitched than usual.

"You think I believe there's anything in this world sh-she doesn't deserve? You think I take pleasure in denying her things she ought to have? A good name, a solid reputation, children borne out of her own body?"

"Maybe you don't take pleasure in it," Angela said somberly, "but you _are _denying her them."

Jane sobbed again, bothering to wipe at her eyes only because otherwise she would be unable to see Angela. The pain exploding in the pit of her stomach required substantial effort to keep her from doubling over.

"I make her happy," she finally said. "I'm enough for her. Why can't that be enough for you?"

"Because it's not just her I'm worried about," Angela said. "Janie, I want you to be happy, too!"

Jane laughed bitterly through her tears. "Y'know the sad thing, Angela? I believe ya when you say that."

"Why's that sad?"

"Because it goes to show…" Jane shrugged. "My point. This is the way it's always been, Angela, and I guess it's the way it always will be. You've got your ideas, and I've got mine. Your problem is you don't never know when to throw in the towel."

"Should I apologize, then, for never wanting to give up on you?" Angela asked sourly.

"No. You should just apologize for not knowin' better by now. How can ya think you know what'd make me happy better than I would? I know what made ya happy, Angela—gettin' married and havin' your kids, and then helping to bring us up afterwards. That's fine and all right for lots of people, but not me. It just ain't me."

"I guess you're right. I _should _know that by now. You never did anything by the book, Calamity Jane."

Jane had finally reached the point where she could speak without tears garbling her words or forcing her to pause for breath. Her voice only trembled with emotion when she clasped her hands together in desperation for Angela to comprehend the honesty in her sentiments:

"Please, Ma. She makes me happier than I ever thought I could be."

This baring of her soul was met with tight-lipped silence. Angela's expression was hard to read: it didn't appear angry or shocked, but it also did not look happy or moved, the way Jane knew it would if she was saying such things about a man.

"You think I'm bein' selfish," she guessed.

Again, more silence. Jane took a step backwards for the door, her eyes never leaving Angela's, waiting for a last-minute reconciliation. She grasped the doorknob, and still Angela said nothing. They had reached an impasse, and Jane knew it: her heart felt too weak to argue her case anymore, and she knew it would all be landing on deaf ears anyway. What scared her the most was Angela's silence. Not once in her life had Jane ever known Angela to be rendered silent—she always had a comeback, always had a response. What did it mean when nothing came to her mind? Did it mean she, Jane, was victorious? Or did it simply mean that for once, Angela just needed time (like any rational human being) to come up with a stronger argument?

Either way, Angela didn't try to stop Jane when she finally stepped out of the cottage. Left on her own, she let out a long breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and sank against one of the ledges in the building.

She had honestly thought at first that she could handle Jane and Maura's situation, so long as she didn't hear too many details about it. The relationship was their business, and if they were as invested in it as Maura professed, then it was clearly their choice and they were all right with it. If they didn't want husbands, so be it. Besides, Angela could no sooner imagine Jane bending to the will of a husband than she could conceive of a way to travel to the moon.

But when they had gone to Boston, her thoughts had started to fester. Maura was so sweet, and in a way, so naïve. Since a man was probably out of the question as far as Jane was concerned, Jane needed to be in a relationship where she could be the boss, where _she _could be the man. Circumstances of some sort had led them into believing they would fulfill something the other was searching for, then.

They _appeared _to be happy. But what if they weren't? What if they were only fooling themselves, and wasting precious time? Jane could be so convincing, so charming when she needed to. What if she was inadvertently robbing Maura of the future that the sophisticated woman had grown up wanting, needing? And how long was it going to take for Jane to start being serious about her life, and really settling down? Someone like Grant would have given her a free reign. If this was just a diversion, it needed to be stopped as soon as possible before both women got hurt more than they had to.

But as Angela watched Jane through the small grimy window, finding the nearest horse, leaping on top of it and riding away, she broke down in fresh tears. Left to her own devices, she had panicked and gotten paranoid. She ought to have left well enough alone, and trusted her daughter and Maura to do what was best.

In the letter she had gotten to Jane the morning of their departure for Boston, she had spoken of her faith in Jane to do the right thing. Over the course of two weeks, that belief had apparently wavered: Jane's reappearance only confirmed to Angela that she, Angela, was the one who knew what would be best for Jane.

This thought occurred to both of them, Angela in the ramshackle cottage and Jane riding the horse as fast as it would go.

_ Angela didn't trust me at all. She still treats me like a kid, like I don't know my ass from a hole in the ground. I'm the only one who can say what the right thing is for me. Maura's the only one whose approval I ever need_.

Normally Jane would have gone right back home, but despite the wonderful things she had just told Angela, she did not feel up for seeing Maura right now. She felt hurt and betrayed that Maura had kept something this monumental from her for so long. It made her sick and angry just thinking about it. Angela was _her _mother, not Maura's. How could she not have said something? Even before all the trouble in Boston had started, she'd had days on the train to tell her. There were so many down hours at the Isles home when they could have had a conversation. And instead, Maura had chosen to keep it to herself.

_ Why? Why would she do that? How could she not have warned me?_

Jane knew it was dangerous to ride when she could hardly see straight for her tears, but she couldn't stop now. She needed to be alone, possibly by the creek in the woods she had always run to as a kid when she wanted isolation from all but nature.

When faced with a familiar type of enemy, Jane Rizzoli knew how to handle it. Armed with the right weapons or even just the right attitude, she always knew how to keep a cool head and get out of whatever scrape she was in. But on nearly all those occasions, she had a partner. If she came up across something that smacked her right out of the blue—especially if it wounded her in a way she couldn't see, only feel—there was just one thing for it.

She ran.

* * *

**A/N**: So ... that was really difficult. Thank you for reading, and please don't worry... Jane's not going far and she won't be gone long.


	18. And For Worse

The sun had gone down before Maura saw Jane again that day.

It wasn't for lack of trying, at least on Maura's part. She had spent most of the morning unpacking their luggage, waiting for Jane to stop by as promised. Perhaps naively, she had hoped they would be able to lunch together, but there was no such luck. Jane was bound to be extremely busy getting caught up at work, a task Maura did not feel up to doing yet herself. Hour after hour ticked by as she figured out how to break the news about Angela, and then slowly started to fret. It was past five o'clock now. Jane never went this late without checking in at home, Maura's office, or at least sending word with someone.

What got Maura preparing to rush out the door was the overdue realization that it was entirely plausible for Jane to have run into Angela and been told everything.

She had just finished lacing up her shoes when she heard footsteps on the front porch and froze. Maybe that was finally Jane. But a knock quickly deflated her excitement, and she hastily went over to open it.

"Sheriff," she said, sounding a little surprised. "Um, hello! How are you?"

Korsak walked inside when Maura opened the door a little wider, then shut it behind him. He was turning his hat over nervously in his hands, avoiding Maura's eye, wishing he was about to talk about something more pleasant like the trip Maura had just taken back home. Instead, he felt pressed to ask, "Have you seen Jane today?"

"You mean since this morning? No," Maura quickly replied. She tensed when Korsak sighed gruffly. "Do you know where she is?" Her anxiety ratcheted as Korsak still didn't meet her gaze. "Sheriff, please, you're starting to worry me."

"It completely slipped my mind," Korsak blurted out.

"What did?"

"Well, I meant to tell her, but I wasn't sure when you two were coming back, and I thought I'd have more time to figure out a way to break it to her, or that he'd be gone by then."

"Who, Sheriff?"

"Dr. Pike."

"Who's Dr. Pike?"

Korsak sighed again, wearily sitting down on the arm of Jane's favorite chair. "While you were in Boston, you very dutifully asked Dr. Callahan if he could make himself or his assistant available to come down from Green Forge and help in our town when necessary. Unfortunately about two days after you left, Dr. Callahan was struck quite ill himself."

"Oh, poor man! Is he all right?"

"Doing better now, apparently. He was still present enough to feel bad about possibly letting you down, so…" A third sigh, and Korsak wiped his brow, wishing he had a shot of bourbon to get him through all this. "So Callahan sent another man down here to take his place, which is to say _your _place, temporarily, while you were gone."

"This Dr. Pike person? All right, so what does he have to do with Jane?"

Finally lifting his eyes to meet Maura's, Korsak said heavily, "Pike is the reason Jane can still use her hands."

He bit back the urge to say more, watching Maura's expression carefully and hoping she would be able to connect the dots herself. More than once he had seen Jane and Maura together, Jane's hands glove-free—he knew Maura must have noticed those scars, the ones Jane used to so fiercely hide. Slowly he saw sorrowful comprehension dawn on Maura's features: someone had to have operated on Jane the night Hoyt had scarred her hands, and Dr. Byron would've been too young at the time to have been the town doctor.

"I don't know how much about that night Jane's told you," Korsak said softly. "But suffice it to say it changed the course of her life, and obviously not in a good way. I could tell she was uncomfortable every time Pike saw her afterwards, tried to check up on her. I think she was ashamed."

"Of _what?_" Maura asked breathlessly. "He saved her—shouldn't she be grateful to him for that? Shouldn't she want to see him because of it?"

Korsak was shaking his head before Maura even finished asking the question. "He didn't save her, I did," he said, and he was able to do so without making it sound puffed up. "And make no mistake, Maura, Jane was embarrassed around me, too, for a long time. But I'd been close to her family before it happened, and I think that helped. She distanced herself for a while, but not completely. She'd never known Pike, though. Not really. She'd never needed a doctor before that night. So…"

"She associated him with weakness," Maura guessed. "He had first met her when she was barely holding onto life, and she hated that that was his first impression of her."

"Yeah," Korsak muttered.

"Has she always been so proud, then?"

"It ain't just a matter of pride, Maura. It's everything Jane went through that night. Pike was a constant reminder of how close she'd come to death, and I think that scared her, even if she'd never admit it."

"Where's he been? I mean, what precipitated Dr. Byron coming to replace him?"

"Oh, there was another doctor before Byron came in, after Pike. My former superior officer, Lieutenant Cavanaugh, asked Dr. Pike to leave a few months after the whole thing happened."

"Why?"

Korsak shrugged. "Cavanaugh had a soft spot for Jane, I think. And he hated Pike, and Pike was intimidated by Cavanaugh, so he left pretty fast. But Cavanaugh's been gone for a while now, and I guess Pike didn't end up going too far if he wound up back here."

"Jane saw him?"

"I think so," Korsak said uncomfortably, shrugging one shoulder. "She was supposed to meet me in town, but she never did."

"So she could be anywhere," Maura reasoned, her panic resurfacing when Korsak failed to mention a likely place where Jane might be. "Where's Frost?"

"Frost's out of town, as a matter of fact."

Normally Maura would have been curious enough to ask where exactly Frost had gone, but all she could bring herself to care about at the moment was the fact that she had no idea where Jane was, and the only person who probably could have told her was not reachable. Jane had left without word: either she was in some kind of trouble, or she was hiding herself away on purpose.

Maura was jarred out of her reverie only when Korsak gently put a hand on her shoulder. "You just sit tight, Dr. Isles. I'll find Jane and bring her to you."

"No," Maura said softly, pushing Korsak's hand away. "I'm not just going to sit around waiting. She'd look for me if I was gone. I'm not going to do any less."

And so they split up to search. Korsak rode back into town, where he first went to Tommy and Frankie's, then Angela's tavern. Maura went to the corral, and after looking it over, mounted Wind Whistler and headed over to Sparrow Lake. She urged her horse quickly down the same path she and Jane had ridden last night, ultimately letting out in the alcove Jane frequented for privacy. It didn't take long for Maura to see that nobody was there, and she felt her heart plummet in disappointment and further concern: she had been so sure Jane would be there. As she wasn't, it seemed to point to a determination not to be found even by Maura.

The search went on for hours: Maura ventured the long way to Wohaw Springs, Korsak went up to Green Forge, and Frankie (once informed that Jane was gone) canvassed the town once again. He had thought of asking Angela if she might know anything, but he was wary of worrying her just yet if he could avoid it.

It was past nine o'clock when Maura, desperately and dejectedly returning to Hollow Creek, was finally hailed down by Frankie. He was pale, breathing heavily, and for a moment Maura feared the worst. Frankie had apparently run fast and long to find her; once he was close enough to speak, he leaned over with his hands on his knees, all but gasping for breath.

"Jane's home," he wheezed. He had to call out when Maura swiftly turned to head back to her and Jane's house. "Not _your _home," Frankie explained, wiping he sweat off his face with dirty kerchief. "Ours. The old Rizzoli place."

Maura frowned slightly, a sign of worry creasing her forehead.

"She's in a bad way," Frankie said, stepping in Maura's path when she looked ready to walk in the direction of the Rizzoli house.

"You mean drunk," Maura said tartly, looking down and needlessly pulling on her gloves. When she glanced up, it was to see Frankie nodding glumly. "Well I'd better get over there, then."

Frankie blocked her again. "Please, Maura. Jane's here now; she'll be all right. Go home tonight and rest, get some sleep. We'll send her over tomorrow." It did not appear as though Maura felt like complying. Even though there was no one around, Frankie lowered his voice to say, "Please. You remember what happened the last time you were around Jane when she was like this."

He looked afraid to bring it up, but Maura understood why he had. After all, Frankie had been the one a very drunk and remorseful Jane had asked to throw her in jail for mistreating Maura. At the time, Maura had been appropriately afraid and hesitant to forgive Jane's admittedly brutish behavior. How else could she have reacted, when she had been handled with nothing but kid gloves until that point in her life?

Since that incident, Maura had experienced first-hand much more of the darkness which the world had to offer. She had learned how it felt to lose one's control to alcohol. She had learned how it felt to be kidnapped, tied up. She had learned how it felt to pull a trigger at someone, and also to be on the receiving end of intentional, perverse violence—to be on the brink of death. That crevasse was one Jane had been forced to stare down daily since a young age, ever confronting her own mortality and rarely taking pleasure in it until Maura came into her life.

But how was Frankie to know exactly how much and how well Maura understood his sister?

"I need to see her," Maura said, her throat dry. When it looked as though Frankie was going to protest, she added, "That is not a request, Francesco. I will be seeing her whether or not you like it."

With that she finally stepped around him, self-assured that the only thing which could stop her now was physical interference, which Frankie would never resort to with a lady.

"Well I'm coming with you," he said, catching up.

"You may come to the house, but I insist on seeing her alone."

"As a deputy of this town, Dr. Isles, I'm afraid I can't permit that. Jane's a danger to herself and others at the moment, and I can't in good conscience leave you alone with her."

"I don't give a hang about your conscience, _junior _deputy," Maura said, stopping and turning to face him. "I am properly equipped to handle Jane, and have some private matters to attempt discussing with her."

Frankie snorted. "She's not really sound enough to discuss much at the moment."

Maura started walking again, lifting her chin up. "I'll be the judge of that," she said in a lofty voice. "If it will make you more comfortable to wait outside armed, all right then. I presume Tommy is watching her now?"

"Yeah, she just showed up. But you gotta understand—"

"Understand _this_, Frankie!" Maura said in the sharpest tone she had ever directed at him. "I am tired of being underestimated by people! I do not need your permission to speak with my current companion, much as I appreciate your intent. All I ask is for your cooperation. If I need protection, I will not be too proud or shy to ask for it."

Frankie was sufficiently cowed by Maura's impressive outburst, but Tommy put up a fight once they reached the house. He saw no point in Maura endangering herself, but she quickly wore him down with a sermon not dissimilar to the one she had just given Frankie. Although both brothers were extremely hesitant, they agreed to let Maura go inside so long as she promised to call for help if she needed it and defend herself if she thought it necessary. Making note of their concern, Maura left them on the front porch, squared her shoulders, and walked inside.

As soon as the door closed behind her, she was prepared for the worst. The dark house was entirely quiet, and Maura suddenly found herself hyperaware of the noises from outside: the breeze, the crickets chirping, a dog barking somewhere down the street. When she called out for Jane, there was no answer. Maura lit a nearby lamp and carried it with her down the hall she knew led to Jane's old room. But it seemed to be another dead end—one sweep of the room with her lamp proved that it was empty.

She very nearly screamed and dropped the lamp when she turned around to see Jane suddenly standing in the doorway.

"Put that down," Jane said, her voice nothing more than a husky whisper. She pulled the lamp out of Maura's loosened grip, placing it on the floor. Straightening up, Jane took a step closer to Maura, who moved back on instinct. "Hello there, Mrs. Rizzoli."

"Jane…"

"Maura." She moved closer again, hands resting on her hips in a sort of pseudo-casualness. Maura could smell the alcohol on her breath, and wished she could see for sure the look in Jane's eyes. But the light was too far away now, and Jane was backing her further from it. "Tell me something."

"Y-yes, Jane?"

"Husbands and wives… or wives and wives… whatever the hell we are, we ain't supposed to have secrets. Agreed?" When she got no verbal response, Jane lowered her voice even more. "Tell me, Maura. Say somethin'. I thought you said you couldn't lie."

"I can't!"

"You lied to me about Angela!"

"I did not!" Maura cried, lifting her hands and stopping in her tracks. Jane came to a halt as well, and Maura got the feeling she was getting a dark stare. "I kept something secret from you, it isn't the same thing."

"Oh yeah? You didn't go lyin' to Angela, then? Couldn't tell her we was just friends? No, you had to go all out. Just went ahead and told her we don't mean nothin' to each other but pure physical satisfaction—only the way she sees it, it ain't so pure."

"Jane, that isn't what I said."

"Well that's what she got out of it," Jane snarled defensively. "I'm the monster and you're this poor weak innocent thing I've bewitched to satisfy my _needs_." She let out a bark of a laugh, as if someone like her could never have something as inanely mortal as sexual urges. A light push was all it took to get Maura on the edge of the bed, and she sat there in momentary trepidation. Jane stood over her, slowly undoing her belt. "Was she right, Maura? That all we are to each other?"

Maura's mind had gone blank, from what she wasn't entirely sure. She shivered when Jane pulled her belt out of its loops, inadvertently slapping the leather against Maura's face before letting it fall to the floor. Maura found herself transfixed as she watched Jane slide her thumb beneath the strap of one of her suspenders, running it upwards before reaching her shoulder. With a snap, the suspender fell, and the other soon followed.

"You know everything," Jane said, her voice black and steady. "You know everything in the world, but you also know everything about me. I ain't got nothin' to hide from you no more, so I ain't gonna. Behind all the nice talk and the pretty dresses and the clean clothes, Dr. Isles, there is a wild animal inside you that ain't nobody seen but me. So you ain't gonna blush when I tell ya how it felt the other night to have your face right here."

It took Maura a moment to realize Jane had pulled the hem of her shirt out from her trousers, and now appeared to be massaging the skin just below her navel. Jane's legs felt weak for a moment as she let herself imagine a little more fully what she had wanted to do that night, her clouded mind trying to formulate a more descriptive mental image.

"Your lips were right here," she murmured. "And I wanted ya to keep goin' down. I ain't thinkin' so clear just now Maura, so you go ahead and picture it for me."

"Jane…"

"All right, all right," Jane said impatiently. "You're a woman, ya like to be _wooed_, is that right? I gotta kiss you first, right?"

Somewhat clumsily, Jane got onto the bed, straddling Maura and pulling her into the least romantic kiss they had ever shared. Maura wasn't being wooed; she was being dominated. Even after their longest separation or the most passionate of their encounters, Jane had never gripped her this tightly or kissed her this hard. In no time at all, Maura was on her back, something she didn't realize until Jane had broken off the kiss, looming over her.

"These?" she panted, caressing the fingers of her left hand against Maura's cheek. "They've been inside ya, deep inside. And yours have been in mine—I mean, in me. Hidden away by those dainty white gloves you wear, but there ain't nothin' refined about 'em where I'm concerned, huh? Ya feel sorry for me, so you're stayin' with me for now to help with my _urges, _until some man comes and takes ya away, 'cause he can give ya stability and your own damn kids—"

"Jane! I—_ohh!_"

The argument flew right out of Maura's head the moment Jane shifted her knee up hard, right between Maura's legs. The pressure was felt distinctly through her layers of skirts, ramming into a very strained and aroused area. Maura's thighs squeezed Jane's leg on impulse, just as her hands grasped blindly for the sweaty shirt on her back.

"You want me to stop, I'll stop," Jane choked out, thrusting against Maura with every ounce of her considerable strength. "Just tell me."

Maura was only tangentially aware of the soft, desperate noises coming out of her as she gulped for air, frantically pitting resolve against the animalistic arousal surging through her. Even though each faculty was demanding the impending release which only Jane could provide, Maura knew she could not allow herself to be so easily and completely bowled over when Jane was in this state. It wasn't right.

The first time she whispered "stop," it was so quiet and restrained that it easily lost amidst Jane's heavy panting and even the sound of the wooden frame beneath them bumping the wall.

"_Stop_," Maura said loudly, more forcefully.

At the word, Jane pulled back almost instantly, breaking off the hot, wet kiss she had been leaving on Maura's neck. "Stop?" she whispered, breathing heavily.

"I can't be with you like this," Maura said, her voice garbled by tears she hadn't even realized she'd been shedding.

Jane shoved off her, turning away and sitting on the edge of the bed with her back to Maura. "You're the one who came lookin' for me," she said angrily, rubbing her arms. "I was tryin' to stay away from ya so wouldn't—'cause ya said ya don't like it when I'm like this way. Dammit, Maura, I can't help it. I didn't hardly drink a damn drop in Boston, all the hell we went through! And you ain't even apologized yet!"

"I should hardly think so, when you're in this state," Maura said, standing up.

"Ya should've told me Angela knew somethin'," Jane said gravely, getting to her feet and stepping in front of Maura. "You didn't have no right keepin' that to yourself."

Maura smoothed her shirt, redoing the buttons Jane had ripped open, almost beyond repair. She looked up, trying to gauge how present the Jane she knew and loved was at this moment. "I know you're upset," she said softly. "And you have the right to be, but I'm sure it also hasn't helped that you saw Dr. Pike here t—"

Jane cut her off with a wordless shout, waving her hand. "Don't say his name!" she slurred. "I don't care, I don't give a hang that he's here! You think he scares me? You think I ain't got what it takes to take care of myself, Dr. Isles? I do! I don't need him or Angela or nobody else but me! You ain't leavin' till I know you know that!"

"Oh, I'm leaving!" Maura huffed, pushing Jane aside and heading for the door of the room.

"Apologize!" Jane growled, blocking her way again.

"You are a coward!" Maura nearly shouted. "Is this what I should expect when you're confronted with unpleasant situations which can't be handled with a showdown or a fight? You just run away from the people who love you, regardless of who you might hurt?"

"Hurt? _I'm _the one hurt, Maura!"

"You scared me to death today! I had no idea where you'd gone, if you'd left by choice or been taken! I made a mistake in not telling you, but you shouldn't have run away like an insecure child, like a coward! You should have come right back where you'd left me and talked it out!"

"You wanna talk? Fine! Let's talk right now!"

"I am not going to torture myself by staying here and listening to your drunken rambling for one more minute, Jane Rizzoli! I will not entertain you when you're in such a mood, and if you think otherwise, you are even more frighteningly far gone than I had thought."

Without another word, Maura stormed out of the house and Jane didn't try to stop her this time. Tommy asked Maura if she was all right, and she briskly replied that she was fine and had merely decided that it would in fact be prudent to wait until tomorrow to try and talk some sense into Jane. Wind Whistler was tied to a post in town near the boarding house, and Maura resolved to walk there, turning down Frankie's offer to lend her his horse. It wasn't too far of a distance.

Once Maura was out of sight, the Rizzoli brothers re-entered the house, only to see Jane in the kitchen downing some bourbon. Tommy tried to wrestle it away from her, telling her she'd had more than enough to drink, but Jane was not feeling particularly amenable. Frankie had hoped she would be drowsy at this point, but the opposite turned out to be true: she was so riled up and raw after her encounter with Maura, and she needed something to channel all of her sudden energy into. Unfortunately, this translated to a fist fight with Tommy where no punches were pulled on either side. Frankie was eventually able to at least inject some sanity back into his brother, and together the two of them managed to get Jane into her room.

She stayed there, but only until she was sure they had long fallen asleep. Jane had nodded off herself, but eventually woke up in the middle of the night feeling heartsick.

Maura wasn't sleeping well either. In fact, she wasn't sleeping at all. Upon getting home, she had gotten ready for bed in a flurry, hoping that restless activity would keep her from being able to seriously ponder what had just happened. But then she was lying alone in bed with absolutely nothing to distract her from the misery seeping through her.

It had been wrong, so wrong, to keep something of such magnitude a secret from Jane. Maura took comfort in knowing they would talk through it all tomorrow, but she felt horrendous guilt for having driven Jane to such an angry place tonight. And she had certainly hated the way Jane had left without giving anyone any word, worrying Maura to a degree she didn't think she had ever reached before. Goosebumps rose as she remembered in painstaking detail how harrowing it had been searching for Jane, not having the slightest idea of her whereabouts.

Reading didn't help. Star searching didn't help. Writing a letter didn't help. Nothing could distract her. Maybe she needed a companion, a lively one. Maura opened her door to go find Jo Friday, when she finally heard it—loud, ugly sobbing from the front porch. The moment she located where the noise was coming from, Maura hurried through the house and wrenched open the front door.

Jane was sitting there, knees pulled up to her chest, wailing pathetically. Maura had rarely seen her cry like this, and that was jarring enough in itself, to say nothing of how heavily it contrasted with the determined anger she had seen embody Jane earlier that night. Jane wiped at her eyes, sobbing relentlessly, gasping for breath when she saw Maura was there.

"I'm sorry!" she choked out. "I'm sorry, I'm s-sorry!" She inhaled deeply, and the breath came out as a loud, twisted sob. "I love you, Maura, please—I'm sorry!"

Maura wasn't sure how much more of this emotional turmoil she could take. She leaned over to help pull Jane to her feet, and judging by her lack of balance, it was wondrous to think she had made it all the way over here at all. Jane's evidenced self-loathing made Maura feel all the worse for having kept a secret from her, and she almost wished Jane would go back to angry shouting. It would make her feel less guilty.

"Sh, sh," Maura soothed her once they were back inside. They stumbled to the sofa, where Jane fully let herself go and just rested her full weight in Maura's arms. She kissed the top of Jane's head, running a hand over her hair. "I'm sorry too, Jane."

"You ain't got nothin' to be sorry for," Jane said between short, aggravated sobs. "I'm the one actin' like a child, like a coward." Before Maura could say anything, Jane held up one of her hands, fingers spread. "My scars," she said, taking another pass at wiping her arms. "You're right, Pike fixed 'em up and now he's back. Here's… he's here."

"He'll be gone soon," Maura said. "I can make him leave tomorrow."

Jane swallowed heavily. "I woke up and I didn't know w-where I was. I thought I was in hell, I hurt so bad. Everything hurt so bad, Maura. My hands, especially." She gulped down another sob, giving Maura enough time to realize Jane was talking about the night Hoyt had almost killed her. "Dr. Pike was there, standin' over me with some sorta tool, like I woke up before with Hoyt and his scalpel. I thought he was gonna hurt me. I thought he was gonna kill me."

"Oh, Jane," Maura whimpered, holding her closer and eliciting more tears.

"And he—he made me feel weak, and stupid, and scared more'n anything else. I didn't think he was gonna ever be here again. I can't be here if he's here. I gotta leave."

"_He'll_ leave," Maura insisted. "Jane… please. Don't run away again. Don't _ever _run away."

"I do, though," Jane cried. "I do run away. I ain't so brave as ya thought, Maura, you called it easy. I didn't ever wanna hurt ya, I swear. I don't ever wanna do that. Angela …she m-messed me up, and it all just …I can't think of…" She sighed heavily, wearily. There were words she knew she wanted to get out, sentiments she wanted to express, but none of them were coming to her. Even sober she might not be as eloquent as Maura, but it seemed nothing intelligent was willing to come out of her just now.

Maura kissed her forehead, rubbing her arm. "Why'd you come here tonight, Jane?"

Jane's voice sounded strangely dry now. It cracked as she bent over, putting her face in her hands and muffling some words. "I yelled at ya. I made out ya mean less to me than you do. I couldn't hardly sleep, I felt so sick for it."

"Me too," Maura whispered. "You really scared me today."

"I know," Jane said thickly. "In a lot of ways, I reckon."

"You reckon correctly."

Jane laughed weakly. It was an exchange they shared often as a small joke, Maura commenting on the Western phraseology. Maura smiled as well, then sobered up enough to ask, "Will you come to bed, then?"

"No," Jane said softly, still wiping away the errant tear. "I oughtta stay out here."

"I'd really rather you stayed where I can be with you and make sure you don't run away."

This time when Jane laughed, it sounded more pitying than pitiable. "Maura, you're a child if ya think I couldn't find a way to sneak outta bed without you're noticin'. I reckon it's best for me to sleep out on this sofa here tonight. I promise I ain't goin' nowhere."

"And Jane Rizzoli never breaks a promise," Maura said quietly.

Jane nodded. "Hell no she don't." With one more sigh, Jane got out the last of her tears. It was silent for a few moments as she stayed hunched over, Maura rubbing her back. "How come you're always so quick to forgive me?" she finally asked.

Maura took her time answering. "Well in this case, you did what I once asked. Am I angry with you for leaving without word? Absolutely. Do I think it's unwise to drown all your sorrows and insecurities in alcohol? Indisputably. But …I told you never to drink like that around me again, and so you left to do it elsewhere. I feel justified in coming to find you, but even when I did and we were both upset, you… you didn't let things go beyond where I was willing to allow them."

Here she carefully examined Jane's expression, her eyes adjusted fully to the dark. It was clear Jane was hanging on to her every word, but it also seemed like a safe bet to say she wasn't following much of it. It was probably an equally safe bet to say that if any words were in fact managing to get past the inebriated haze of Jane's mind, they would be forgotten in the morning.

"In essence," Maura sighed, "I promised to stand by you for better or for worse. If this is the worst, I want to know it."

After a long pause, Jane reached up and brushed her fingers against the faint scar on Maura's neck. "Weren't that the worst?" she whispered.

Maura gently took Jane's hand away from her neck, kissing the wounded tissue on her palm. "It was. Sets a pretty high bar for you."

"Don't say that," Jane muttered, pulling her hand away. "I don't ever wanna hurt you, Maura, and I ain't ever gonna."

_Not if you can help it, I suppose_. "I know," Maura said. "I know, Jane. And you won't ever, will you?"

"I'd sooner marry Grant!"

Maura finally laughed. "Let's not be drastic! You wouldn't leave me for him, would you?"

"No, Maura Isles. You might make me mad sometimes, and I might make you mad sometimes, but I wouldn't leave you."

* * *

**A/N**: Another hard one. Questions? Comments? Westerns?


	19. A Two Way Street

**A/N**: Whoa, this just broke 1000 reviews. You guys are so awesome, thank you so much for the feedback. Seriously, it's appreciated more than you know.  
I feel like I should say that in spite of how it may seem at the moment, action will be occurring in this story beyond "who will find out about their relationship?" Don't worry, I'm gettin' there. I just think interpersonal stuff like this is interesting, but yeah. Also, I may have definitely thrown in yet another Seven Brides For 7 Brothers reference, as well as one from Airplane that I just couldn't pass up. I'm sorry/not sorry.

* * *

It was early yet, and the house was quiet. Maura pulled on a robe and stepped out into the sitting room, where Jane was sprawled on the sofa. Jo Friday was curled by her master's legs, but perked up immediately when Maura walked in front of them. Jo's tiny stir caused Jane's formerly smooth countenance to crease slightly, and Maura went to kneel by her head.

"Jane?"

"Mmph."

"Jane."

"Mmm?"

This was unusual. Typically, Jane was alert and even talkative in the mornings, no matter how late she had stayed up or how strenuous her activities in the night had been. She had of course consumed alcohol in Maura's presence since they began living together, but had never been so intoxicated as she had yesterday. Maura gently brushed Jane's arm, remembering how out of sorts she had felt herself the morning after Thanksgiving, and wondering if that feeling wasn't one you just got accustomed to.

"Jane, are you awake?"

"Mmm…"

"Do you want to go back to sleep?"

Jane's face scrunched for a moment, and she sat up just enough to reposition her head, burying it further into the small pillow that had been meant for decoration. And yet, she distinctly mumbled, "No."

"You want to get up?"

"Mm." Was that a sigh, or a groan? "Mm-hm."

"Would you like some coffee?"

"Mm. Yeah."

"All right." Her hand ceased its rubbing motion on Jane's arm, and Jane wearily opened one eye in protest. Maura had to smile at that, and restarted the soothing movement. "We haven't any in the house, so I'll have to go into town and see if the general store is open."

"Could go to Angela's," Jane mumbled. "She's always got…oh."

"Perhaps not." Maura knew at some point they were going to have to talk to Angela, but it didn't seem like a particularly smart idea to begin by asking her for some coffee. "I'll go and find you some. Will you be here when I get back?"

Jane's brow furrowed and her eyes screwed shut. She pulled her arm lazily away from Maura, and Maura got the feeling that Jane was a bit insulted by the question. "Course I'll be here," she muttered. A few moments passed during which Maura wondered if that alone was her cue to leave, and Jane belatedly realized she may have sounded insensitive. But she was too sluggish to offer anything but "Sorry. Thanks."

Maura leaned over and kissed Jane's forehead, then got to her feet. "I'll be back as soon as I can," she promised.

In record time, Maura deemed herself ready to leave the house. She pulled her hair up quickly into a blue velvet snood, hoping that would distract anyone she ran into from noticing how unsightly her gentle curls were. Dressed in a simple ivory-colored tarlatan and brown riding boots, Maura bid Jane a quick goodbye and hurried out of the house.

It wasn't until she was outside, walking briskly towards the corral, that she realized just how early it probably was. The sun may just have risen, and the horses didn't appear to be too active. Saddling up her mare was not easy work, and a bit dirty at that, but Maura plowed through the unpleasantness of it so she could ride off as quickly as possible. The sooner she got some coffee in Jane, the sooner Jane would feel up to talking, and the sooner Maura could properly apologize for not telling Jane about what had happened with Angela.

As she rode down the empty street into the slumbering town, Maura found herself wondering if this was what Jane felt like sometimes out in the desert. There wasn't a soul around, and it was hard to hear anything beyond her horse's hooves beating against the dirt path. Maura expected the initial unnerving feeling to go away, but it did just the opposite and got stronger the further she went. Every innocuous landmark suddenly seemed ominous, and Maura found it difficult to resist the urge to keep looking over her shoulder.

Doubtless there were men out working the land, but the town itself was still asleep. Maura was just starting to wonder if it had been pointless to come into town so early when she finally spotted a lone figure sitting on a porch. It was Adelaide Johns, daintily sipping something outside her little house by the tailor's shop. Tea, probably. The old lady had seen Maura, and the doctor waved. Figuring it would be rude now not to say hello, Maura steered her horse over towards the house.

"Well, well! Don't you look fine!" Adelaide said, shielding the sun from her eyes one Maura was within hearing distance.

"Do I?" Maura asked, gracefully dismounting and walking up the porch steps. "Do I appear to be a real Westerner?"

Adelaide laughed heartily, always charmed by Maura's touching eagerness to blend in with the atmosphere. "Only a real Westerner would be mad enough to greet the dawn this early!" she said, and Maura looked pleased as she sat herself down in the chair next to Adelaide. "Tell me, dear, what _does _bring you into town at this hour? I'm not keeping you from some poor dying soul's bedside, am I?"

"Oh heavens no," Maura quickly replied. "Er—not in town, anyway."

"Come again?"

"I am on a hunt for some coffee for Jane, who's about as animated as a corpse without it. Normally I try to keep some in the house, but as we've been away…"

Adelaide set her cup down on the arm of her chair with an exclamatory noise, as if she had just remembered something. "That's right, you've been away! Come inside and tell me all about your trip, dear. I've got some coffee on."

"I _thought _I smelled coffee!" Maura laughed. Adelaide had already stood up, heading for the door. "When I rode up, I presumed it was tea—not sure why."

"Nor I," said Adelaide, standing by the door and holding it open for Maura, who was still seated. "Come inside, doctor! I'll give you some to bring back to your ailing husband."

Maura's eyes were downcast as she got up and walked past her hostess into the house. She tried and failed miserably to invoke a tone of amusement to match Adelaide's when she said, "Please, Addie. Don't tease me." It wound up coming out as little more than a choked whisper, despite her best efforts.

Fortunately, Adelaide seemed to misread the reason behind Maura's melancholic voice. "I'm sorry, dear," she said, shutting the door softly behind them. "I didn't mean anything by it. Beautiful girl like you? You'll have a real husband in no time!"

"That isn't…" Maura struggled to know how to finish the sentence, and wasn't much helped by the act that Adelaide was watching her closely. "I don't think I'll ever marry."

Adelaide frowned, and her whole face seemed to sag with it. "Still too close to Mr. Fairfield's departure?" she guessed. "Did being back in Boston bring back some memories, Maura?"

"Some," Maura answered with a noncommittal shrug. "It was a very emotional trip overall."

"Not in a good way?"

Maura shrugged again. "Some of it was good, some of it was less so."

It wasn't like Maura to be _this _evasive. Adelaide pursed her lips and turned to the stove. _Clearly she doesn't wish to discuss it. I should probably let it alone_. _That would be the proper thing to do. _"Well? What happened over there, then?"

This was yet another explanation Maura knew she ought to have rehearsed. It would be impossible to lie as much as she thought the situation really warranted, just as it would be too mortifying to disclose the full truth of her newly discovered lineage. "Well, it was nice to see old neighbors and old haunts again, you know. But there's such an elitist air in Boston that I certainly do not miss. There are skeletons in the closet of every family."

"Including yours, eh?"

Maura nodded when a lump rose in her throat, preventing her from responding verbally. But then something occurred to her, a potential misconception she did not want Adelaide to walk away with. She forced her voice out: "Nothing to do with my father, though. Or—well, it… he did nothing dishonorable in his lifetime."

"I see," Adelaide said, even though she did not fully. (Jane was the only one in town who knew of Maura's wayward mother.) Obviously this was a sensitive subject, and for once, the old troublemaker decided not to push it. So, giving the coffee a stir, she decided to take a slightly different tack: "Well! What did the Bostonians make of our Calamity Jane, hm?"

Finally, Maura was able to laugh (or at least chuckle) honestly. "Opinion was generally divided, I think it's safe to say. The men tended to be a tad… unwelcoming of her ruggedness, possibly intimidated, although I suppose that was to be expected. I admit I was somewhat surprised by how much the ladies were taken with her. They found her quite fascinating."

"As did you when you first came here, if I am not mistaken."

"I suppose you're right about that," Maura said thoughtfully. Before coming out West, she had never even dreamed of the possibility of meeting someone quite like Jane Rizzoli, even in a novel. "Jane does still manage to keep me on my toes, but I've grown accustomed to her nature since I've gotten here."

Adelaide covered the coffee on the stove, wanting to make sure it was piping hot. She explained to Maura that this way, hopefully, it wouldn't be lukewarm by the time it reached Jane.

A few moments' silence passed before Maura thought to ask, "Adelaide, you've been in this town a long time—what could you tell me about Dr. Pike?"

"Oh!" Adelaide groaned, falling weakly into the rocking chair beside Maura. "Insufferable man!"

"Really?"

"Truly! Maura, if you are concerned about him taking your place in this town, you needn't be at all. We were glad to be rid of the pompous oaf many years ago, and I'm sure there shall be dancing in the street when people realize you've returned."

This hadn't been Maura's intention in bringing up Dr. Pike, but she found herself girlishly pleased by the praise. "Oh Adelaide, I'm sure you exaggerate!"

"I assure you, dear, I do not! He offends positively everyone I can think of, and what's more, he is tremendously inept at his work a good deal of the time. It seems he operates at his best with no sleep or with a little moonshine in his system!"

Maura gasped "_no!_" in ladylike horror as Adelaide nodded grimly. "How shocking! I must see to his dismissal immediately after I've brought this coffee to Jane."

"Oh—speaking of Jane and Dr. Pike…"

"Yes?" Maura asked tensely.

"It would probably be to your best interest not to take Jane with you if you decide to speak with Dr. Pike yourself."

"Why not, is there a history there?" Maura asked, unsure of how much Adelaide knew.

Adelaide raised her eyebrows curiously. "Possibly. That isn't what I meant, however. Dear old Dr. Pike is over half a century old, and in spite of many desperate attempts, he never married. He is sure to attempt flirtatious action with a young lady as lovely and unmarried as yourself."

"What does that have to do with Jane?"

Laughing, Adelaide stood back up and stretched a little. "You are not as observant as I thought, Dr. Isles," she said, setting about pouring the coffee into a pitcher, "if you haven't noticed how easily agitated Jane becomes when any man expresses more than a friendly or professional interest in you."

Maura stood up as well, feeling nervous instead of swooning even internally at the woman's remark. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Adelaide," she said on reflex.

"You're _sure?_" Adelaide asked, eyebrows raising yet again. She put a lid on the pitcher, and it fell into place with a loud _clink_. "All I meant, dear, is that Jane seems very protective of you. There's nothing the matter with that—and besides, I'm sure it's a response brought on after your engagement ended. It has always been Jane's nature to be protective. She watched as you were hurt by Garrett Fairfield, and does not want to have to see anything like it happen again. It's a shame, really," she sighed, though looking as if she enjoyed how pretty her words sounded. "Jane would make someone such a wonderful husband—if only she were a man."

"Yes, if only," Maura said a little tersely.

_And you would make someone such a lovely wife_, Adelaide thought.

"Thank you for the talk and coffee, Adelaide, but I really must be going and getting this to Jane."

"Oh, yes. Can I lend you any cream or sugar?"

"Thank you, no. Jane takes it black."

"Of course she does."

Adelaide offered to give Maura a carriage ride back home, but Maura politely declined, as she didn't feel patient enough to hitch Wind Whistler up properly. So, Adelaide stood patiently on the porch with pitcher in hand, passing it carefully over to Maura once the doctor had securely mounted. Thanking Adelaide again, Maura set Wind Whistler off at a slow pace so as not to accidentally spill any coffee. Maura thought she probably looked a little odd, with no hands on the reins as both were occupied in holding either the pitcher's handle or lid. She swayed a little more than she'd have liked, but she made it back to the corral eventually, and in one piece. Once Wind Whistler was stowed safely back in her stable, Maura walked quickly up the road to her house.

Jane was still on the sofa but was at least sitting up, albeit hunched over with her face in her hands. "Jo Friday, no," she groaned when the dog started yapping the moment Maura walked inside. "Quiet, girl."

"Josephine, you know better than to make a racket when your master isn't feeling well!" Maura scolded her, walking to the kitchen to pour the coffee into Jane's most cavernous mug.

"And she knows you mean business when ya use her proper name like that," Jane laughed, for Jo had indeed gone obediently quiet. "Say, after ya left, I figured maybe I'd gone and sent ya on a quest for the Holy Grail. Where'd ya find coffee at this hour?"

"Adelaide's," Maura replied. She swirled the drink around a little before bringing it carefully over to the sofa. "She happened to be on her porch when I rode by, and she'd already made some."

But Jane wasn't really paying attention anymore; she had greedily taken the mug out of Maura's hands the moment she'd sat down. She took a long sip of it, and when she finally pulled the porcelain away from her lips, it was with an "mmm" sound not unlike the one Maura often heard rumbling from the back of Jane's throat during their more intimate encounters.

"Thank you for bringing that to me," she said, her voice somehow raspier than usual. "Bless your beautiful hide, Maura."

"Thank you?" Maura said a little uncertainly. Jane nodded and drank some more. "How are you feeling?"

Jane swallowed heavily. The scalding liquid burned her throat and made her tongue numb, but that was what she appreciated about it. "Physically?" she asked. "I been better. Been a helluva lost worse, too. Strike that and reverse it if ya meant how I'm doin' emotionally."

Once Maura worked that out, her hands curled anxiously into fists and rested at her knees. "Jane, I am _so _sorry I didn't tell you about Angela."

It was a while before Jane answered, and she kept her gaze fixed on the floor. "Yeah, I know," she said quietly. She downed some more of the coffee, noticing out of the corner of her eye that Maura was fidgeting. "Maura, you and I've gotta settle something right now. You cannot _ever _keep something that big from me again. I mean, your business is your business, but this affected me, too."

"Jane, it was just…" Maura trailed off, worrying she would never be able to justify herself. Jane's dejected, hurt tone made it painfully clear that no answer would ever totally satisfy her.

"Just what?" Jane asked, her voice strained. It was hard not to snap. "Maura, how could you not have told me?"

"I was afraid you would take it badly! Thank heavens I was wrong!"

Jane's mouth fell open, and she looked over at Maura. "Was that sarcasm?"

Maura appeared a little confused, as if wondering how a quip had escaped her, especially in the midst of an argument of all things. "I think so?"

An awkward pause settled between them, and Jane finally snorted a laugh. She set her mug down on the small table in front of the sofa, then leaned back. Her fingers were interwoven, her expression contemplative, her lips itching for a cigar to wrap themselves around. "Yeah, I took it badly," she finally murmured, staring at her hands. "But I'd have rather heard it from you than from her."

"What exactly did she say, can you remember?"

Jane sighed heavily. "Nothin' new."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean nothin' I ain't ever thought of myself. She said she saw us kissing, and that she thought —well, she thought we were both… lost, I guess. Not sure what we wanted. Just foolin' around." With a shrug, Jane shifted her position, lifting her feet up to rest on the small table. It was a clear sign that Maura was trying to pacify Jane when she didn't slap Jane's feet away. "So I told her that wasn't it. I told her what it really was, and she said…" Jane swallowed hard, kneading her hands and still not meeting Maura's gaze. "She went on about all the things you deserve to have that I can't give ya."

Maura gently reached over to touch Jane's arm and spoke with a tender voice to match: "Jane, we've already been over—"

"Dammit, Maura, I know!" Jane said loudly, pulling her arm away from Maura's hand. Dark eyes glazed over with tears met Maura's, and she knew her own wouldn't be dry for long. "I thought I was over all them problems, and I thought I could handle 'em, but that was just when you and me were the only ones who knew about 'em! I ain't ever been so hurt in my life when she told me all that," Jane admitted, bitterly brushing away the one tear that had fallen. "I wanted her to be happy for me, like she was when you and me moved into the house together. She was real happy for us, then. But then she found out what we do, what we are, and she ain't happy for me anymore."

Jane paused to collect herself, and Maura was left struggling with something. Had Angela's approval ever really mattered to Jane that much?

"I know what you're thinkin'," Jane sniffed. "You probably think it's easy for me to dismiss what anyone thinks of me, on account of my leavin' all the time, and the things I did when I was gone. And I guess you'd be right, there. But being with you is the first thing I've ever done that feels _right_. It's the only thing that feels like Angela should praise me for, 'cause it proves I've maybe got some brains in my head and that I have good taste!"

They shared a quiet, hesitant chuckle over that one. This time when Maura wrapped her hand around Jane's arm, Jane did not pull away. She sobered up fairly quickly, though, her eyes plaintively searching Maura's face for understanding.

"What you and I have? It's the most precious thing in my life," she said somberly. "And I guess that means it's liable to be the thing I'm most insecure about."

"You have to trust me," Maura said steadily, and Jane guiltily averted her gaze again. "Jane. You really do. And I really think we have to talk to Angela."

"No," Jane muttered, shaking her head. "No, no, no."

"Jane."

"No."

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Running away from a problem you don't know how to handle."

"You callin' me yellow?"

"I call it like I see it," Maura said, primly folding her hands in her lap. That got Jane's attention. "It's hard, Jane, I know. But if you want to keep living in this town, you know we're going to keep seeing Angela. We can't avoid her forever. And besides, she clearly needs us to set some things straight." Her brow furrowed, and she allowed her posture to slump slightly. "You know, I really don't understand it."

"What?"

"Angela's attitude. When I spoke to her before we left for Boston, she seemed much more… well, 'supportive' isn't quite the word, but she at least seemed open to the possibility that our relationship was genuine. She said she wanted you to be happy."

Jane snorted again. "Yeah, well. She wants I should be _her _version of happy, and that includes a husband and bearin' his children and all that."

"That's not the impression I got."

"Yeah well, it's what she just told me!" Jane said defensively.

Maura forced herself to stay calm, reminding herself that Jane was hurt and had every right to be. "Perhaps it's because she had time to let it stew while we were away, and because we weren't right in front of her eyes, she allowed her imagination to wander. And possibly it became more difficult for her to accept when she spoke about it with _you_; I mean, you're practically her flesh and blood."

"Don't matter," Jane said gruffly. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her forehead against one knee. "Angela's stuck in her ways. She ain't ever gonna see me as nothin' but a—nothin' but one of nature's mistakes."

Her back shuddered with a repressed sob, and Maura placed a soothing hand between her shoulder blades. It finally dawned on her then that while Jane may not have felt it necessary to ask Angela's permission to do anything, the woman was close enough to a mother figure to be able to crush Jane's spirit with this sort of disapproval. Maura's heart ached as she considered how hard it must have been for Jane to be confronted with that alone. If she was honest with herself, she couldn't help feeling that her father, were he alive, would have reacted the same way as Angela if he'd found out. He may have loved and respected Jane, he may have seen the good she brought out in his daughter, but he would in all likelihood not have been happy with Maura's decision to forfeit a "real" marriage for her. Just the thought of his expressed disappointment, possibly condemnation, sent a shiver down Maura's spine.

_How can I ask this of her, when she came with me to Boston masquerading as my husband? How can I force her to be this courageous when I don't feel it myself? _

"Jane," she whispered. "I was wrong not to tell you. You were so excited about our trip, and I didn't want you to be over wrought with worry and fear, like I knew you would be." She laughed nervously. "If I'd known how unpleasant so much of this vacation was going to be, I'd have told you sooner. I planned on saying something when we got back, but I didn't have time to compose myself before you wound up finding out. And I am so, _so _sorry."

There was no response, and Maura ceased rubbing small, consoling circles in Jane's back. She did not, however, remove her touch altogether.

"I know you may not feel I have the right to ask for anything just now," Maura said, "but you need to understand something, Jane. I was nearly beside myself with worry yesterday when I couldn't find you. It was a terror unlike anything I've ever known."

"Not even when Doyle kidnapped ya?"

Maura considered it briefly. "No, this was more frightening than even that." She let that sink in, then added, "You cannot do that again."

"No, huh?" Jane grunted.

Determined to be firm, Maura, squared her shoulders. "No. It really isn't fair of you."

Jane recoiled from Maura's hand on her back. The look on her face was the most morose one Maura had ever seen, and she felt as though a great stone had been lodged in her chest.

There was too much being communicated in that look for Maura to truly understand, too much Jane didn't feel like getting into at the moment. Before running off yesterday, she had planned on at least dropping by Korsak's station to tell him she wouldn't be coming in for work. But on her way, she had seen and immediately recognized Dr. Pike talking with someone in town. The mere sight of him had sent a tidal wave of horrifying memories over and into her heart, and it was that coupled with Angela's censure that had driven Jane to drink so much and hide away completely. There were pressures and there were past experiences Jane had had that Maura would never come close to understanding. She would never comprehend the gravity of the request she was making. Sometimes, a person needed to be alone, needed space. Sometimes she didn't want to be found.

"Well then," Jane grumbled. She stood up and looked down at Maura, who remained uncertainly on the sofa. "I'll be sure you know where to find me this time."

Hands deep in her pockets, Jane walked around the back of the sofa, and Maura twisted to watch her go to the door by their bedroom. She yanked it viciously open, and the loudness with which she slammed it shut behind her made it explicitly clear that Maura was not to follow her. Behind the door was a rickety flight of stairs leading to their small, dusty cellar. It was windowless and unfurnished save for a working bench, and also a chair Jane had never finished putting together. Maura had her study and Jane had the cellar, but she rarely worked down there, instead preferring to be in the sitting room or outside, where communication with Maura was more easily accomplished.

The silence that settled after Jane's dramatic exit was foreboding. Maura grabbed a shawl and pulled it around her before grabbing an old medical journal for some light reading. When it became difficult to focus on the words, Maura turned her attention to the very detailed illustrations, which were a happy distraction from her Jane-related thoughts despite their proclivity to depict various gruesome diseases.

But even the fascination of medicine couldn't keep her mind off her melancholy for too long, and Maura eventually closed the book and decided to do something. She'd do something for Jane—go into town and tell Dr. Pike that his services were no longer required. The sooner he got out of town, the better.

It felt good to have something concrete to do, but Maura took her time getting ready, in case Jane felt like coming up to apologize. Unfortunately the wait was in vain, and it was a certain trepidation that Maura cracked the cellar door open with a loud creak. The stairs turned as they descended, blocking the actual cellar from view, which was probably just as well. Maura pulled on a pair of white gloves and tried to sound perfectly unbothered when she spoke.

"Jane?" No response. Maura cleared her throat. "I'm going into town. I shouldn't be gone longer than an hour. All right?" It would probably have been insulting to add, "will you be here when I get back?", and Maura had to work hard to keep the question from escaping her. But Jane's silence was too much for her, and she couldn't help asking in a trembling voice, "Did you hear me?"

"_Yes_," was the terse reply. Jane regretted her one almost instantly, but she heard the front door of the house open and close before she could go up to apologize. She seriously doubted whether she'd had the willpower to really do that at this point, anyway: the waves incited by Maura's perceived betrayal had yet to fully wash away.

When Maura had reached the corral, she saw a stranger standing by the front door of the small cottage, looking flummoxed. He appeared to have just knocked, and Maura guessed nobody was working at the moment.

"Excuse me, sir. Can I help you?"

He whirled around to see who had spoken, and his eyebrows shot up at being addressed by such a lovely creature. Who was this golden-haired vision in the silvery drab with lace frills, and a pearl pin? She certainly didn't seem to fit into this part of town. Adjusting his glasses, he sank into a funny bow and extended his hand.

"Hello, miss—Dr. T. Pike, at your service."

"Well, Dr. Pike."

Now that he said it, Maura figured she ought not to have been surprised: he was dressed like a bit of a fuddy-duddy, the types in Boston who were not rich but wished desperately to appear so. The maroon pinstripes on his cream-colored suit made him appear almost more like a candy man than a doctor, and his glasses gave his eyes a sort of funny, over-sized look. At the sight of Maura, he had swept his straw hat off his head to reveal a balding crown, and Maura winced at the decayed-looking teeth in his smile.

"That's right, miss. I wonder if you _could_ help me."

"I'll do my best to try. Although as a matter of fact, I was looking for you."

This seemed to please him greatly. "Were you?"

"Er—yes. You see—"

"Perhaps we can talk about the reasons why as you escort me to meet Dr. Isles. Apparently he's deigned to return from wherever he took flight, and according to the Sheriff, that means I must be going. I just thought I would drop by and introduce myself before leaving, you know, just to see if it seems he'll last very long. No one has since I've gone. Anyway, the office was empty and the Sheriff said I might find Dr. Isles at home past the corral, but the only house I can see is the one I'm assuming belongs to Jane Rizzoli." His lips smacked after he said the name, and he missed the way Maura's face scrunched at the sound. "Her brothers told me that she lives there. So you see my confusion."

"I do?"

"Well, yes. If Jane Rizzoli lives there, Dr. Isles must live elsewhere, unless they are married—which I doubt very much. I don't know if you've met Jane, but she's got a bit of a temper. I don't think a man in his right mind would settle down with that loose canon."

Maura had heard enough. "It might interest you to know, Dr. Pike, that _I _am Dr. Isles."

The sound that came out of his mouth could be described only as a boisterous guffaw, and one that frightened a few nearby horses. But the laughter faded as he realized the young woman's face was not joining in the mirth with him.

"Surely you can't be serious," he said.

"I am serious," she said. "Only the name isn't Shirley. It's Maura. Dr. Maura Isles."

Now Pike looked downright offended. "A _female _doctor? Preposterous. Don't delude yourself if you are the doctor's assistant, my dear. Bring me to him."

She stood straighter, and suddenly the prairie flower looked a little thornier than she had before. "I am not deluded," she said. "I have been a doctor in this town for nearly a year, and I intend to remain so for many years to come. My father was quite a brilliant surgeon and taught me the science of medicine very capably."

"Nonsense," Pike muttered angrily, running a hand through what remained of his hair. "Simply unbelievable. Replacing someone like _me_ with—"

"With someone who doesn't drink on the job?" Maura cut in. "Granted, Dr. Pike, you did do an excellent job on Jane's hands."

"Oh, you've seen them?"

"And felt them." _Ooh. Yes. _"The incident might never have happened, her fingers work so well."

"Glad to hear it," he said, though he didn't sound it.

"Well, that's all I really wanted to tell you, I suppose. Thank you, and good bye."

She had already turned to leave and was walking away when Pike decided to call out, "I'll be close by, Dr. Isles! This town won't last long with a lady doctor in charge, mark my words. The Sheriff will get his right mind back eventually, and I'll see you packing your bags!"

Maura whipped around. "I'd better see you've packed yours and gone by tonight, or I won't help spare you from Jane Rizzoli's hands!"

Swiftly she turned around again, determined that she should have the final word. As there were no more shouted comments, Maura figured she had stumped or frightened Dr. Pike enough into shutting up—but she couldn't enjoy her victory for her annoyance. She had been spoiled by Dr. Byron's openness, but while it may have been naïve to expect Dr. Pike to welcome his replacement with open arms, Maura had at least hoped he might be civil.

Now she was already back home, and even more miserable than she had been before, a feat she wouldn't have thought possible. Jo Friday bounded over to her the moment she stepped inside, but Maura ignored the dog and stared at the cellar door, which was still partially open. She knew Jane liked to end arguments on her own terms and her own time, but Maura did not want this stalemate to last a minute longer if she could help it.

Once in her tiny study, Maura pulled out a pen and thin sheet of paper to write: "_Jane, please forgive me. I truly am so sorry._" When the ink dried, she folded the paper in half and walked back out to the sitting room, motioning for Jo to come over. Jo eagerly complied, and Maura stooped to be closer to the dog's level.

"Do you know where Jane is?" she asked, and Jo's ears perked up at the sound of her master's name. "Find Jane."

She held up the folded note in front of Jo's face, allowing the dog to give it a good sniff. Quickly ascertaining that it wasn't food, Jo returned her gaze to Maura's face, and Maura pressed the paper gently against Jo's mouth. Finally understanding, Jo took the note carefully in her teeth, then turned and scurried across the floor towards the cellar. Maura sighed and stood back up, watching as Jo tore down the stairs and out of sight.

Glumly she returned to the sofa and her medical text, though it was even harder now to concentrate as she waited for some kind of response.

"I forgive ya."

Maura jumped and turned around. Jane was standing in the cellar door, leaning against the frame and looking serious. When she whispered for Maura to come over, it didn't occur to the doctor for a second to disobey.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, reaching her arms out for Jane.

"I know," Jane said, indulging Maura in a quick hug. Part of her wanted very much to kiss Maura as well, but a larger part was still too unsettled for such an affectionate action. So, too quickly for Maura's liking, Jane pulled out of the embrace and walked towards the front door. She stuffed her feet into a weathered pair of boots, then opened the door and held out her hand towards Maura. "C'mon, Dr. Isles."

Looking confused, Maura walked over. "Where are we going?"

Jane sighed, running her thumb over Maura's fingers once the woman took her hand. "I've been thinkin', and there's some stuff I wanna make sure you know."

"Can't you say it here?"

"I don't wanna repeat myself, and I've gotta say this some place Angela will hear it."


	20. Greater Than Capable

"So ya weren't in town very long."

They had walked past the corral, where Maura thought they might get out the horses, but Jane seemed to content to take her time and go by foot. Jane had her hands in her pockets, trying to look calmer than she felt, and Maura's arm was looped around hers. It was a familiar, comforting position for them, and one people around town were accustomed to seeing them in.

"Yes, well," Maura sighed. "I had intended to go see Dr. Pike and inform him myself that his services are no longer required in this town. By funny coincidence, it seemed he had been trying to find me as well, and had stopped at the corral in hopes of getting directions to where I lived, I suppose. We crossed paths and… words were exchanged."

Jane forced a laugh. "Ain't too pleasant a fella, is he?"

"Not very. He made his displeasure at having ultimately been replaced by a woman quite clear."

"Yeah, I'd imagine he wouldn't be too keen on that."

Maura shook her head. "I'm just so sorry you had to see him, Jane. I understand why that would have been very upsetting."

"Yeah," Jane muttered. "I just don't understand why Korsak didn't tell me right off, when he saw me. I guess he was just surprised to see me, and that threw him off."

"I think he was also glad to see you," Maura said, giving Jane's arm a squeeze. "Maybe that distracted him from remembering." When this warranted no response, Maura glanced over at Jane and added, "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Jane." Still nothing. "One of my mother's friends in Paris had quite an interesting theory. He said the most powerful force on earth is not a weapon."

"What?" Jane grunted.

"It's thoughts. _Your _thoughts."

"Thoughts are more powerful than a bullet?" Jane scoffed. But her skepticism waned as she allowed the notion time to marinate, and she found herself speaking aloud to process the powerful forces. "I always knew where I stood when I had a gun or a knife on me. I still do. But Pike—he saw me with my guard down, with everything …weak. It's like I wasn't myself anymore."

"He'll be gone soon," Maura assured her.

Jane shrugged, and after walking in silence for a short while, finally said, "It's my pride, Maura. Blasted pride." She kicked a small rock with a bit more force than was probably necessary to get it out of her way, and her hands balled into fists in her pockets. "I don't see how ya can keep your head livin' with someone like me, like a… what'd Angela used to say? A loose canon."

"Nobody's perfect, Jane."

She snorted. "I don't even come close."

Generally, Maura was able to intuit when Jane was fishing for compliments, but this was not one of those times. Her dejected tone was honest, and honestly hard to listen to.

"Jane, I don't know whether anyone ever told you this," Maura said, "but it's all right to be afraid."

"No it ain't," Jane instantly returned. "We don't give into fear."

Maura stopped walking, and Jane turned to look at her. They had just reached the edge of town, and considering the time of day and number of people walking about, their conversation wouldn't remain private for much longer. Glancing around, Maura tugged Jane behind the nearest building, which happened to be Adelaide's house.

"You've never been afraid of anything?" she asked skeptically.

She saw Jane's jaw tense. "Course I have," she mumbled. "And ya seen how well I handle it. Drink too much and I run away."

"Those are the only instances you've been afraid? You've never been scared on the trail with Frost? You weren't scared when Hoyt had us captured, or when Doyle kidnapped me and you had no idea where I'd gone?"

Jane looked torn between a frown and a smile. "Yeah, I was scared, but I fought anyway."

Maura reverently lifted one hand, curling her fingers against Jane's cheek, so deep into this moment that she didn't hear a window open behind her. "See? That's the definition of a hero. Stick to it, and you'll have nothing to be ashamed of."

Closing her eyes, Jane rested her forehead against Maura's. She took a few moments just to relax, to match the steady rhythm of Maura's breathing. She remembered how much this closeness had meant to her before she had ever kissed Maura, or even recognized that she was in love. It had always soothed her, always brought her back down to earth, even if only briefly. Maura Isles had made an impression right away, because no woman had ever looked at Jane the way Maura had.

Growing up, she had gotten accustomed to being viewed as some sort of aberration by the older women in her town, specifically, a demon by her teachers. Angela and Adelaide were the only exceptions, although exasperation was typically mixed in with the tireless adoration. When disguised as Jake, Jane had quickly learned to accept that women were going to view her either with fear or shameless lust.

Maura had been different. Although it was clear from the start that she could be easily affronted, there had been a curiosity in her gaze since the moment she and Jane had met. With relative quickness, though, something new had been added to that look, something Jane could not identify right away. Eventually she realized it was indicative of awed respect, or other times, deep amusement. Both looks became more precious to Jane than anything she had ever owned or laid eyes on, and she'd found herself going to ridiculous lengths to engender them.

And now there was hope wrapped up in that gaze, as well—a hope Jane would give anything to fully justify. But before she had a chance to come up with a reply, a distinctive bark snapped through the air above them: "Hero? That crabby, unfeminine social deviant?"

The women jumped apart and immediately looked upwards for the source of the voice. Jane scowled and Maura frowned: it was Biddy Charleston, a highly unpleasant busybody who was currently leaning out of Adelaide's window.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Charleston!" Maura said, ever attempting politeness.

"Heavens alive, girl, I thought you were supposed to be intelligent! Clearly it is _dusk_," Mrs. Charleston balked. (Jane normally would have socked someone for taking a crack at Maura's intelligence but old Biddy was hardly worth the trouble.) "Anyhow, I suppose you're back from Boston, then?"

"Well if you ain't the sharpest tool in the shed!" Jane drawled.

Biddy's eyes narrowed. "Our town was quiet while you were away. It made for quite a nice change, Calamity Jane. I was thinking of asking Sheriff Korsak if he wouldn't mind sending you on some more long-distance trips."

"Were you now?" Jane asked, bristling.

"Yes. Then perhaps our esteemed town doctor could find a reputable gentleman to spend her time with, and eventually step down from her degrading career."

"Mrs. Charleston!" Maura cried.

The old woman continued as if Maura hadn't spoken: "A young lady such as yourself has no business being surrounded by ill and dying people! If your mother didn't raise you to know that, she clearly did not do her job."

Fortunately for everyone involved, a moderator arrived at that moment in the form of Adelaide Johns. She appeared at the window by Biddy's side, exclaiming, "_Biddy! _What is this you are rambling about in my home about my friends? Is it ladylike to be so malicious?"

"If ultimately it helps to save their souls!" Biddy argued. Then, with a snide look at Jane, she added, "Or one of them, at least. The other is likely beyond saving—if it's worth saving at all."

"Well thank goodness we have you around to tell us who is and is not worth the honor of being saved by your inspired motivation," Adelaide said before Jane could respond. "Now Biddy, if you would kindly do me the favor of leaving, I would much appreciate it."

"But the photograph!"

"The light is gone! As you so aptly pointed out mere moments ago, dusk has arrived, and we haven't enough light to take a proper picture. So unless you would prefer your grandchildren's essence be lost in utter, Satan-like darkness—" At that, Biddy clicked her tongue and pushed away from the window. Adelaide smirked after her, then looked back down at Jane and Maura. "Incidentally, what are you two doing lurking behind my house? Come inside."

They waited to take Adelaide up on her invitation until they were sure Biddy (and, apparently, her grandchildren) had already left. The sight which awaited them indoors was one Maura had grown accustomed to, but was utterly new to Jane: Adelaide had sectioned off one part of her small house as a makeshift photography studio, as she was slowly getting back into the practice for which her husband had been so renowned. The art had gone through drastic reformation since Mr. Johns had taken it up, and Maura's rudimentary knowledge of chemistry had been quite helpful in assisting Adelaide to develop the pictures.

"I'm sorry you had to endure that," Adelaide said lightly. "If only photography wasn't such a laborious process, Biddy would have been gone long ago. I've never cared for her that much, but her grandson is a fine boy, and his wife's decent, as well. Unfortunately they are moving to Nevada, and Biddy wanted something to remember them by, so she requested a portrait."

"What d'you need all this for?" Jane asked, staring at the backdrop Biddy's grandson had helped to set up, as well as some assorted equipment.

"Oh, well, you know Biddy. She's mighty picky about things and wants them all just so. We spent so much time deciding on the proper framing and outfits and positions, that we've gone and lost most of the light."

"What a pity," Maura said.

"They'll be back tomorrow," Adelaide sighed. "Bright and early, I'm sure."

"What position did you land on?" Maura asked absently.

Adelaide stared at her a moment, then ushered Maura and Jane in front of the camera. Speaking loudly over Jane's protests, Adelaide said, "Humor an old woman who just got rid of your sworn enemy, will you? This will only take a moment." She positioned Jane behind Maura, both of them standing so they needed to turn their heads to the right to face the camera.

"Aw, c'mon, Addie! Maura and I've got to be somewhere."

"It can wait," Adelaide said briskly, walking back behind the camera. "Now Jane, put your hands on Maura's hips. Go on, they won't bite! And Maura, pick up that parasol leaning against the crate there —yes, that's the one. Hold on to it by the handle—"

"Novel idea," Jane muttered.

"—so the tip is balanced on the floor."

"Ever had your photograph taken before, Jane?" Maura asked, as Adelaide fiddled with the small, mahogany apparatus.

"Uh…once or twice on the road," she whispered. "And once at Angela's request."

"I've never sat for one before," Maura said, sounding a little giddy. "Or stood for one!"

"It ain't that exciting," Jane snorted. "You oughtta be standin' real still."

"This pose hardly seems optimally desirable for a happily married couple," Maura stated, loudly enough for Adelaide to hear.

Adelaide merely laughed. "The hands on the hips were almost too scandalous for Biddy to handle. What would you suggest, Maura?"

With a grin, Maura opened the parasol and swept it up over her shoulder, twirling it daintily. She then turned her head back to smile at Jane, who again looked torn between anxiety and amusement.

"All right, but could ya hold that position long enough for a picture?" she asked.

"Mm, maybe not," Maura mused. She nimbly brought the parasol around so that it effectively hid herself and Jane from view of the camera. "How long does it take?" she asked, absently twirling the parasol again.

The answer came from Adelaide, who quipped, "Not quite as long as it used to," noting the completion of the process. She knew the end result would likely be rubbish, especially seeing as how the lighting wasn't exactly ideal, but she hoped the outcome would at least be discernible.

They left shortly afterwards, only to be stopped again, this time by Tommy and Frankie. Jane knew that the longer their visit to Angela was prolonged, the weaker her resolve to talk would become. However, she also appreciated that it had been a while since her brothers had seen her, and they wanted to be friendly. Tommy, especially.

After the initial hellos and how are yous, Tommy grinned at Maura and said, "I've been waitin' for that archery lesson you promised me, Maura!"

"Oh, yes! Well, perhaps later this week?"

"Works for me," Jane said, folding her arms.

Tommy shot her a vaguely annoyed look. "You?"

"Yeah. Korsak's been sayin' he wants us deputies to be better, uh, …more knowledgeable about different kinds of weapons. I was set to go over to Wohaw Springs for some lessons with a bow and arrow until I remembered I live with an archery expert! So, what d'you say, Maura?"

Looking slightly exasperated, Maura said, "I would be honored to teach you both."

"Great. Now if you fellas will kindly excuse us, we're lookin' for Angela. Any idea where we might find her?"

"Her tavern's probably a good place to start," Tommy said sarcastically.

"Why, of course!" Jane said with an overplayed laugh. "C'mon, Maura, let's go."

Once they were safely out of earshot, Maura whispered, "Gracious, Jane, what was _that_ all about?"

"I've told ya before," Jane grumbled. "I don't trust Tommy's intentions. It'd just make me a sight more comfortable to be there when he's with ya."

"You don't think I can take care of myself?"

"Yes you can, Maura, it's Tommy I said I'm worried about. I just…" She stopped outside the tavern, sighing heavily. Then she took a deep breath and turned to face Maura. "Look, sweetheart. I really need you on my side in here."

"I'm always on your side."

"I mean please don't be upset with me about Tommy. It's not about you, it's about him. Feelin' anxious about him is just an old habit, and it's dyin' hard. Okay?"

"Okay," Maura said softly. She took both of Jane's hands tightly in her own. "Ready?"

Jane nodded stiffly, then pushed her way through the tavern doors. It was loud and busy inside, but a quick scan of the place told Jane that Angela wasn't there. Her establishment had gotten big enough that she had been able to hire help recently, and she often took time off to rest in the room the she lived in on the second floor. Jane took Maura's hand, gently leading her towards the stairs and pushing away any inebriated man who appeared ready to make a lewd comment. When they had reached the stairwell, Jane ushered Maura up them first, glancing over her shoulder to make sure nobody was following them. (Not that they would; it was just another old habit of Jane's that would probably never die out.)

Angela's door was closed, but there was a faint light emanating from beneath it. Jane took that as a sign that Angela was home and awake, unless she had accidentally left a lamp on—which was almost easy to believe. Subconsciously she tightened her hold on Maura's hand before knocking hard on the door.

"Who is it?" came Angela's tired-sounding voice.

Jane cleared her throat, glancing at Maura. "Your daughter," she finally said.

There was a long pause, the silence filled only by what they could hear of the raucous laughter from below. "Is she alone?" Angela finally asked.

"No," said Maura. "Your other daughter is here as well."

A few seconds later, the door was pulled open to reveal a very red-eyed and tear-stained Angela. Although Jane had been taller than her adopted mother for many years now, this was really the only time Angela had ever looked small to her. She averted her gaze but stepped inside, Maura in tow. Angela shut the door after them, then sank wearily onto her bed. Jane pulled over a chair from the desk for Maura, and once she was settled, got a small stool for herself. None of them spoke as Jane tried to recall how she had thought she might begin this conversation. Everything seemed to have slipped past her memory.

Finally, it was Maura who spoke first: "Angela, you have obviously gleaned by this point that Jane and I both are aware of your knowledge of… the relationship we share." When this garnered no response, she cleared her throat needlessly. "What I want to know is why you seemed to have accepted it when you spoke with me, and why you then turned on Jane yesterday."

"I didn't say I accepted it," Angela said, her voice hoarse. "I said I understood it."

"Actually, that is the exact opposite of what you said," Maura replied, fighting to keep her voice steady. "You said you did not understand why we would seek intimacy with each other, but that you accepted—or at least _appreciated_—it because you had never seen Jane as happy and as calm as she is since I came into her life."

Angela looked over at Jane, who was watching her anxiously and tight-lipped. "When and how did this all start?" she asked.

"Is that important?" Maura put forth.

"It feels like it should be."

"Well…the beginning stages of attraction were most likely different for both of us."

"When did…" Angela closed her eyes, features pinching, as if she was trying hard not visualize anything happening between Jane and Maura. "When did you _start_ being… closer than friends?"

Maura and Jane exchanged a look, the latter hoping she would not have to voice aloud the need for Maura to remain silent about Hoyt. The message was effectively sent, and Maura said, "Nothing transpired until after Mr. Fairfield left. You should know Jane has always conducted herself with utmost honor and loyalty. She has always treated me with gentleness and respect for my virtue."

"If she had respect for your virtue, she wouldn't be doing this with you," Angela said faintly. "Dr. Isles, I thought I could just turn a blind eye to all this, but I can't."

"Don't say that," Maura begged softly. She could not bring herself to look at Jane, sure that if she did, it would only be to see tears falling out of her eyes. That said, she did wonder why she was the one doing all the talking when it had been Jane's idea to come here. "You know us, Angela. I am not wicked, and neither is Jane. You told me yourself that she's less trouble now than she ever was! I am not asking for you to necessarily be happy for us, but—"

"I am," Jane cut in. She felt Maura's eyes on her, but she kept her own watery gaze fixed on Angela's face. It was filled with enough sadness to make her heart ache, and she vaguely wondered if that was the look Tommy and Frankie had had to deal with every time she, Jane, had taken off without word. She took a shuddering breath. "I'm askin' you, Ma."

There was more silence, contemplative and nervous at the same time. Jane was waiting to speak up again until she was sure Angela would listen, and the fact that she hadn't said anything yet was a testament to the likelihood that she would not try to interrupt when Jane spoke again.

"You remember Miss Dolores? She didn't manage to teach me much, but she got a few ideas stuck in here," Jane said, tapping her head. "There were some words she'd use over and over again, and one of 'em was _incapable_. 'Jane Rizzoli,' she used to say to me. 'You are incapable of learning.' You know what 'incapable' means, Ma? Turns out it means 'ya can't do it.' Not like you ain't allowed to do it, but you are not… able or qualified to do it. And you know me, there ain't nothin' and there ain't ever _been_ nothin' I didn't think I could do. You've read my letters, the ones I sent through Frost. You know some of the stuff I've done, stuff nobody probably ever thought a woman could do." She paused, not for dramatic effect, but to keep in the tears that were threatening to fall. "For years I thought I was incapable of love."

Angela couldn't hold back anymore: "How could you think that, Janie? You loved us, didn't you?"

"That ain't what I mean," Jane said. "I thought I was incapable of _falling _in love. I spent most of my days surrounded by men, doin' all sorts of things with 'em and talkin' about everything under the sun. I kissed a few, I ain't ashamed to say. But nothin' and nobody ever stuck. I saw the way married folks looked at each other and I thought there musta been something wrong with me. I felt like I wasn't made for it, y'know? Like God decided I didn't need love or a companion." She shrugged. "And I reckon some people don't, so I figured that was just the way I'd be my whole life.

"But then Maura came into it." Her tone became reverent as she reached blindly for Maura's hand. "And the pieces fell into place, Ma. I didn't see it for what it was right away 'cause I didn't know I could feel it all for another woman, but I did. I do. I can be with her for hours at a time and it ain't enough. We can talk or not talk. I can feel like I'm on top of the world just by makin' her laugh, or hearing her cry my name.

"And she ain't scared of me, Ma. When I lose my temper or I make a mess of things some other way, she calls me out. Maybe I don't always listen when I should, and maybe I think she can be a little uptight sometimes. But at the end of the day, that don't matter. We can fix anything that's broken, 'cause Ma, we ain't broken."

Throughout this monologue, Maura had been carefully analyzing the most minute changes in Angela's countenance. There was no outward disgust, but the tears continued to fall. Still it had appeared as if maybe some progress had been made until Angela—quite flustered—protested, "But Janie, you didn't ever really _try _to fall in love with a man, did you?"

Jane swallowed hard, suppressing her anger. "Ma, why didn't you get remarried after your husband died?"

Angela and Maura both stared at her, clearly shocked by this turn in the conversation. "I—I—didn't… _what?"_

"You weren't so old when he passed away," Jane said. "You weren't much older than I am now. You'd have had your looks and the money he left ya, and your warmth. There must've been plenty of men who'd have married ya."

"I already had a husband," Angela said thickly.

"Well I've already got a spouse," Jane said, holding up Maura's hand. "If either of us got married or moved away, we'd be leavin' behind the best thing we ever knew. That much I'm sure of, Ma. It ain't maybe, it ain't just an idea or some experiment. It's somethin' I know for _certain_, from my head to my toes. Ma? I ain't doin' this to hurt ya. I ain't tryin' to rebel or make ya sorry for nothin'. I know it'll take ya some getting used to, but maybe …if ya see us while we're around, and ya see how all right we are, ya won't be so upset. Please?"

Angela was shaking her head, not like she was denying Jane anything, but as if she was trying to clear it to think properly. "I don't know what you want me to say."

Leaning forward, Jane whispered, "I want you to say that for once in my life, you're happy for me. I am better, smarter, more patient and happier for knowing Maura than I ever have been before. And I know you can see that. Look—if it'd make ya feel better to believe we're just real close friends, believe that. But don't be askin' us to go get ourselves married or live apart. That ain't gonna happen."

"No?"

"Never. I am in love with this woman, Ma. And I'm gonna love her till I die."

Angela then spent a good deal of time looking from Jane to Maura and back again, studying their features, waiting for one of them to admit defeat or say it had all been an elaborate ruse of some kind. The hope was half-hearted and dwindled the longer she looked, until her gaze finally rested on their interlocked fingers.

"And you, Maura," Angela finally said in a cracked voice. "You feel the same?"

"I do."

Another beat, and Angela had stood up. Jane and Maura warily got to their feet as well, unsure of whether that was their invitation to leave or not. In case Angela was still on the fence, Jane said, "There's one more thing you oughtta know, Ma."

"I think I've heard enough."

"You ain't heard even close to enough. I did somethin' yesterday that was unacceptable. After I talked to ya, I got so upset I ran off and went drinkin' without telling Maura where I'd gone. I didn't wanna hurt your feelings by tellin' ya this, Ma, but I figure I got a right to after all you've said. What ya told me yesterday hurt me more than you'll likely ever know. It _hurt_. And it scared me. But I ain't ever gonna let somethin' like that get between me and Maura again. We know where we stand with each other, and we are _happy_. Maybe it ain't happy the way you been raised to believe a woman should be, but it works real good for us."

"There's more than one path to happiness," Maura offered.

It seemed that Angela now didn't know just where to look. Her hands fidgeted and her throat had gone dry, making it again some time before she was able to formulate an answer. "I'd never have believed it," she finally said. "Jane… I never thought I'd hear you say something like that."

"Something like that?" Jane asked quickly.

"Like what you just said about Maura," Angela explained. "I dunno that I thought you were _incapable _of being in love, Janie, but I did always worry—that's in a mother's job description, you know. I thought so much had happened to you, and you were always so quick to write off new people and be suspicious of trusting them. I can appreciate that Maura helped change that in you."

"Can you appreciate this?" Jane asked, raising their clasped hands. She could see Angela noticing their rings as if for the first time.

"I can… I can… appreciate the commitment," she huffed. "I won't pretend I fully understand that, but as I've told Maura, there's plenty I've never understood about you, Jane Clementine. And I'll just have to accept that. But please, don't… don't tell me any more." _Then maybe I can do as Jane said, and pretend there's nothing unusual about their friendship_.

"You have to make a promise," Jane said, and Angela looked a little taken aback by this. "We promise not to give you any more details, and you _promise_ not to try and intervene in our love life. I mean it, Ma. No more asking Maura when she'll start socializing with more men, and no more tryin' to get me set up with fellas. Understand?"

There was no real bargaining chip here, and all Angela felt was her maternal heart being moved by Jane's desperation. It was increasingly clear how intensely and how passionately Jane felt towards this woman, and Angela wondered how she had been so blind to it. They had surprised everyone by growing so close, and now it turned out there was this added element to it that perhaps nobody else would be so surprised to learn about.

"A mother has plans for her daughters," Angela finally said, choosing her words carefully. "And my plans for you always included a husband and children, but—I guess those were always plans I knew you'd have to choose for yourself, Janie. At the end of the day, the only plans I knew I had for sure were that you'd be happy and you'd be safe, and that you'd be loved."

"Well, Ma," Jane said quietly. "Two outta three." She glanced at Maura, who was looking at her questioningly. "I'm a deputy," she said with a shrug. "Safety ain't in _our _job description."

Maura and Angela both managed a weak laugh, but Angela's was short-lived and her chin was quivering. In her own last-ditch effort, Maura said, "My mother never told me about any plans she had for me, Angela. Not until very, very recently. I grew up never knowing for certain whether she loved me. Ever since I came here, I never doubted your affection for me… at least, not until now."

Then, quite unexpectedly, Angela drew both Jane and Maura into a tight hug. "I do love you," she said. "Heaven help me, I love you both!" She was trembling, and when she finally pulled away, she had started crying again. "I guess maybe it's time I butt out, Jane. You ain't ever listened to me anyway."

"Not on stuff like this, no."

Angela nodded. "Well… you two do seem to make more sense together than you do apart." She opened her door.

"Are you gonna be all right?" Jane asked warily.

"Yes, darling. I will. It's like you said… I'll just need to get used to it. Although you understand I might never," she felt obligated to add. "Not completely."

"Yeah," Jane muttered. "I understand." She instinctively moved in to kiss Angela's cheek before walking out the door. Once she heard it close, she sighed softly. "I think that's the best we could've hoped for, Maura."

"She loves you, Jane. She'll come around in time, don't worry."

"I dunno," Jane mumbled. "She ain't like your mother, Maura."

Maura stopped them by the top of the stairs. "Jane. You were right, that went better than it could have. At least she listened, and at least she appreciates what we mean to each other. And I think she saw how serious you were about not letting her set us up with men."

"No more serious than I seemed when I asked her not to let Grant come near me again," Jane said. "And look how well that went! How'll this be any different?"

"Well," Maura said, lifting her arms and putting them around Jane's neck. "This time she'll have _me_ to deal with, not just you. And trust me, Jane. You'd be just a warm-up act compared to me."

Jane smiled and bent down for a short kiss, allowing Maura to gently curl her fingers in her hair. Her hands stayed at Maura's waist, her lips soft and gentle, not taking the time to coax Maura's apart.

Unbeknownst to them both, Angela had silently cracked her door back open to watch them leave. The image of that kiss was burned instantly into her brain, and she could not label her initial reaction: all she knew was that it instigated a small burn in the pit of her stomach. At first she would have associated this was fear or discomfort, but when she saw Jane pull away and then lead Maura back down the stairs, the anxiety did not linger.

In fact, she was surprised at how quickly the burning sensation had gone away. The more she thought about it, the more Angela realized why the sight of their kiss hadn't been as off-putting and shocking as the first one she had witnessed. True, this kiss had been more chaste—and could possibly have been exchanged by women who were just close friends—but now that the initial shock had worn off, Angela thought she understood it better.

The fact that they expressed their feelings for each other in this manner no longer felt like so much of a surprise. It was almost more of a wonder why they hadn't been doing it all along.

* * *

**A/N**: So I tried not to make that redundant... feedback is, as always, greatly appreciated! And for those of you wondering about how much Adelaide knows- I'll be getting to that soon.


	21. For Children and Wives

**A/N**: Hey y'all! Thanks for sticking through me with this story- the feedback is always really great to read, and I can't thank you for it enough. Also, just as a heads-up, my next update might not be for a short while- I just got promoted (yay!), and it's probably going to take me a while to get accustomed to my new schedule and responsibilities. But I'll definitely be writing whenever I get the chance! (So it probably won't even really be that long... just long for me, haha)

* * *

It was quite dark outside as Jane and Maura started the long walk back home, but neither of them could care less: Jane felt like she had enough energy to run ten miles. Although the talk with Angela had been one of the most nerve-wracking experiences of her life, it _had _felt good to actually be the one speaking for once. Angela had always had a tendency to lecture, and even if it was all meant well, it was still usually very one-sided. This time she had been the one listening, finally giving Jane the time to fully articulate her thoughts instead of cutting her down.

While Jane knew it would probably be a while before Angela fully accepted her relationship with Maura (if she ever did), she at least felt good knowing that Angela had accepted the fact that the decision was made and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Thanks for makin' me do that, Maura," Jane said after they'd been walking a minute or two.

Nobody was quite within hearing distance; there were just a few people out on their porches. "You're the one who decided we should go," Maura replied.

"Only after you put the idea in my head. In the old days…" She shrugged. "I'd have just let it go. I'd never have wanted to talk about it."

"Yes, but Angela would have wanted to, probably—and you'd have had to listen—"

"Nope. No I wouldn't have. I'd have just walked off."

"You wouldn't have tried to defend yourself?"

Jane thought about it for a moment. "To Angela? I dunno. She's pretty persistent, in case ya haven't noticed. She don't like to be wrong, or be corrected."

"Hmm, sounds like someone I know," Maura said, giving Jane's arm a gentle squeeze. She had meant it teasingly, but the more she thought about it, the truer it was. Was something like stubbornness passed down by family, or was it an attitude that could be learned? "Perhaps that's a quality you picked up from her, Jane." Careful to keep her tone light, Maura added almost casually, "I'd really appreciate it if it wasn't passed on to the next generation."

It took Jane a moment to catch on. "Oh. You mean to our little brood?"

"A brood?" Maura laughed. "So now it's more than one?"

"Well yeah," Jane chuckled. "You'd want more than one, wouldn't ya?"

Maura just smiled to herself, and that was enough of an answer for Jane. They walked in silence for a few moments longer, and once they passed the boarding house where Maura had once lived, Jane said, "I did that for them, you know."

"Did what?"

"Talked to Angela. Came back to ya. I sure as hell don't ever want _you _thinkin' I'm a coward, Maura, but I don't have to set an example for ya. I want any kids we got to be proud they're mine, and I want 'em to know that I won't ever give up or run away from 'em. And y'know, Maura, I believe one of the best ways I can show my kids I love 'em is to love their mother." She brought Maura's hand up and kissed it. "And I mean you. I ain't gonna make a mess of things like that again."

"That means the world to me, Jane," came the murmured response. "I can't tell you how much it warms my heart to hear it. You know, I had sort of a funny thought the other day. Well, it wasn't that funny, actually, and I suppose it wasn't really a thought. It was a dream, a daydream."

"What about?"

"You and a little girl."

"Ours?"

"Yes, ours. She had woken up in the middle of the night, because she'd had a bad dream, and you went in to comfort her. But she was inconsolable, and you couldn't calm her down until you told her a story. You wanted to share one of your adventures with Frost, but those were all too big and exciting for a scared girl trying to fall asleep, so she requested Cinderella instead."

"Cinderella. Is… in the Old Testament?"

Maura had a pretty good laugh at that one, and it was not mean-spirited, which allowed Jane to grin a little at her own perceived ignorance. "Jane! It's a fairy tale!"

"Ohhh, right. Yeah, it sounds kind of familiar. How's it go?"

"Jane, you must know the story of Cinderella."

"I must?"

Maura glanced over to see Jane's baffled expression, and it made her inexplicably sad to think Jane didn't know this story. "Would you like me to refresh your memory?" she offered, and Jane nodded. "Well, once upon a time—and you'll have to learn to overlook the inaccuracies and unlikely situations, Jane, as it's only a fairy tale—there was a girl named Cinderella who had only a stepmother and two stepsisters, neither of whom were kind to her at all. They were in fact rather wicked, and made a slave of Cinderella. But she grew up dutiful and relatively kind, and then one day it was announced that every eligible maiden in the kingdom was invited to a ball being thrown for the prince."

"A ball?"

"A sort of party, I suppose. With lots of dancing. The goal was to find someone for the prince to marry. Now naturally, Cinderella wanted to go to the ball."

"Naturally."

"But of course her wicked stepmother refused to let her."

"Of course." Jane was mostly humoring her now, as she found Maura's enthusiasm in telling the tale very amusing. She wondered if Maura was even aware of the storytelling lilt in her tone.

"So everyone else left for the ball, and Cinderella thought she was all alone, when suddenly her fairy godmother appeared!"

"A _fairy _godmother?"

"Yes! So she can grant wishes with her magic. Cinderella asks to go to the ball, and the fairy godmother grants her wish, and turns a pumpkin into a coach for her to take, and gets her a beautiful dress, and turns some mice into horses!"

Jane's grin widened. "And what does the dress look like, little girl?"

"Oh! It's sort of a silvery drab, with lace frills and a pearl pin, and she has blue velvet gloves to accompany her—" Maura cut off suddenly when she heard Jane trying to contain her laughter. "Well anyway, that's how I always imagined it would look," she said in a lofty voice. "And oh, I almost forgot! Glass slippers. I know they don't sound very practical, but I suppose because they were made with magic, they were unbreakable. Anyway, she gets to the ball and the Prince is immediately taken with her. They dance, and they have a wonderful time, but then it's midnight, so she has to leave."

"How come?"

"Well, because the spell breaks at midnight," Maura said as if this were obvious, forgetting she had neglected to mention the caveat earlier. "So she runs back home, before the Prince ever finds out her name. Now personally, I think the more reasonable thing to do would have been to ask around and see who owned a pair of glass slippers, but instead, the Prince sends one of his assistants to each house to try on a glass slipper Cinderella accidentally left behind."

"Why?"

"So he can find her again."

"So why don't _he _go? Why's he send an assistant?"

"I'm…well, because that would make it too simple, I suppose."

Jane snorted. "I suppose. Hell, Maura. If I danced with you some place, and I didn't know your name, and had only a glass slipper to go on, I'd go to every house in the territory to find ya again."

Maura smiled as she pictured Jane dressed in royal accoutrement, with brass buttons going down a finely tailored, cream-colored jacket and red trousers—the outfit she had always pictured the Prince in this story to be wearing.

"If I'd been dancing with you," she said, "I'd have made sure you knew my name before I left."

"Good. Now what happens at the end?"

"Well in the end, the duke comes to Cinderella's house, and tries the glass slipper on her stepsisters first. They try awful things to try and get their big feet to fit into the shoes: one of them cuts off her toes, and the other cuts off her heel. And both times, the shoe fits, but it fills up with blood and the stepsisters can't walk in them properly. Jane, this really isn't funny!"

"I just didn't expect blood!" Jane laughed. "It's—aw, that's a real twist in the end there, Maura. I like it!"

"Of course you do," Maura sighed. "Anyway, the duke finally finds Cinderella, the shoe fits, and she and the Prince get married and live happily ever after. Oh, and the stepsisters get their eyes gouged out by birds," she added matter-of-factly.

They had just reached the end of town, and would have been engulfed completely in darkness had it not been for the moon. Jane was thoughtfully contemplating the story, and eventually said, "Hm. So all it took for the prince to marry Cinderella was finding the right shoe, huh?"

"Well, it _is _just a children's story," Maura said. "Romance doesn't necessarily need to be complex at that age. It's simple. Courting is not an issue."

"Boy, I sure had to court the hell out of _you_, didn't I?" Jane asked with a short laugh.

"I assure you, I was not in any way attempting to be a tease," Maura giggled. "It's only that so many layers of ignorance cloaked what was right in front of me. Angela's question got me thinking. I mean, about when our friendship became something so much more."

With an airy sigh, Jane tossed her head back and said, "I reckon you was hooked from the start, weren't ya? How _did _you resist me for so long? No foolin', Maura, what attracted you to me?"

"Well, I suppose it would be your strength, first of all. I had been around strong-minded women like my mother, but I had never been around anyone, not even a man, who possessed your appetite for adventure. I remember the first time I saw you, thinking what a force of nature you were. And… well, I already told you what happened on Thanksgiving," she said with a blush Jane couldn't see. "After that, I became very conscious of your physicality."

Jane's tone made it very evident that she was quite pleased with herself. "Yeah? Such as what?"

Normally Maura might not have been so quick to indulge, but she figured after Jane's bravery in confronting Angela, she probably deserved a bit of ego-inflating. "Well, you know I've always had an eye for detail, Jane. It wasn't just your exquisite bone structure; it was everything from the way your shoulder blades would flex to the way your dimples would just suddenly appear whenever I got you to laugh." She sighed thoughtfully and lowered her voice. "I loved getting to watch you work, and seeing your shirts—especially the white ones—stick to your skin with the sweat of your labor."

"You've got good taste," Jane said. "I figure ya can't call yourself a decent worker out here unless you can work up a sweat. An honest man ain't ever too clean all the time, 'cause he's drumming himself up some hard, honest work."

"You know what else I found positively distracting?"

"What?"

"When you would wear riding chaps and that one pair of jeans that was a bit tight on you, and I'd watch your _derrière _as you walked away."

"Maura!" Jane gasped. "What a thing for a lady to say!"

"I think that's quite enough from me! It's your turn now, Jane."

"Shucks, Maura, I don't rightly know when I first fell for ya." That said, it didn't take long for Jane to find the words to continue: "I felt different about ya from just about the start. You didn't almost seem real to me, you were so fancy and so smart and so _beautiful_. I just felt so good every time I looked at ya, every time ya smiled at me, every time ya touched me. I thought …I thought at first that was just how it felt to have a friend, but… well, that turned out to be wrong."

When it sounded like Jane wasn't going to add anything else, Maura pressed her, "When did you _know_?"

"Gosh, Maura, I dunno. I was real confused. I was real jealous, though, when I found out Mr. Fairfield had kissed ya. I don't know that I'd have called it jealousy straight off, but it made me so angry to think about. And it weren't 'cause of your virtue or nothin'; it was that _he _had kissed you. As far as really wantin' to touch ya goes, well, you know it was that corset."

That had been a horrifying night for other reasons, and Maura gave Jane's hand a squeeze to let her know she didn't need to continue if she didn't want to.

But Jane pushed on: "Remember ya came to get me, and I sent ya upstairs ahead of me?"

"Yes. I figured you were just speaking with someone on the staff."

"Nope," Jane sighed. "I had to go outside to cool off a bit. I just really _lost _it seein' ya in that outfit. I hadn't ever felt that way about someone before, and it sure wasn't 'cause I was proper. It was just 'cause I'd never wanted to. But I saw ya in that thing, and I just wanted to peel it right off ya." Without realizing it, Jane's footsteps had slowed and her voice had deepened slightly. "I wanted to see and touch all of ya."

"Did that scare you?" Maura whispered.

Jane's voice was quiet also. "Yeah. Yeah, it did." A deep breath, and her pace went back to normal. "But somethin' else pretty scary showed up right after, so I didn't have much time to dwell on it." She cleared her throat, not wanting to get stuck on as unpleasant a subject as Charles Hoyt. "Anyhow, I _could _tell ya when I knew for sure that I was in love with ya."

Maura felt her heart skip in anticipation. "Really? When?"

"It was your birthday, after I took ya to that opera. I just remember thinkin' how much I didn't want to leave. I wanted to stay with ya, I wanted to go home with ya. But I knew I couldn't, so I just returned Korsak's carriage and was gonna go back to my place before I figured I just had to see ya again. It'd done me so good, bein' with ya, after sittin' around in Green Forge for a week, watching Hoyt. Yup," she said, as if to herself. "It'd done me a world of good. So I thought I'd go by the boarding house again and see if a light was on in your window. Not only could I see a light, but I could hear music playin' on that instrument Fairfield got ya. I knew it was the opera we'd just gone to, and I remembered how much you'd lit up when that particular song came in the show. Your face was like a candle on a Christmas tree. So I got my harmonica and started to play along, just hoping you'd maybe hear me."

"And I did," Maura said, her voice as weak as her legs felt.

The darkness mostly hid the width of Jane's smile, but Maura could hear it in her voice: "You opened your window, and I had to stop for a second 'cause the sight of ya took my breath right away. I finished the song and I felt that feelin' again of not wantin' to leave ya, and I just …I just knew. I finally knew I had fallen in love."

Maura was lost for words, and only considered it a miracle that she could keep walking on this point. "If I may ask one more thing of you, Jane… what was going through your head when you kissed me for the first time?"

Jane inhaled deeply, and didn't let the breath out right away. "It's hard to say, I guess. I was still so afraid of everything that'd happened, and how you'd gotten hurt. I thought for sure I had to leave, 'cause I was hurtin' ya. I couldn't believe I was hurtin' ya more by staying away. Everything felt like it was upside-down; Hoyt dead, Fairfield gone, me finally having an excuse to run off but wanting so desperately to stay for the first time."

Remembering it all made Maura's head spin. Trying to convince Jane to stay had been so taxing, and the weight had lifted from her only when that kiss took place.

"And I remember you goin' on about how everything had changed for ya," Jane said, her voice lowering as they passed the corral. "And even though I was saying how great your future could be in this town, I didn't really know what was next for ya, and you didn't either. And you said you loved me, which you'd never said before, and it just hit me over the head like a hammer."

"What did?" Maura asked breathlessly.

Jane furrowed her brow, describing the thought only in retrospect. "That I wanted to be what was happenin' next." For a moment she paused, and Maura stopped walking, bringing Jane to a halt as well. She was mulling it over, and rubbing the back of her neck, eventually mumbled, "I didn't go there planning to kiss ya. The idea just sort of came to me in the moment, like I had nothin' to lose. Kissing you then felt like just the natural thing to do, as natural as breathin'."

Maura pulled her down into a kiss, and closing her eyes, she was nearly able to pretend they were back in that moment when their lips had first touched. Obviously it was an unforgettable moment for them both, but in particular, that sensation and the rightness of it was one that had dug its memory into their very bones. This closeness, unprecedented for either of them, was something they had instantly known not to take for granted.

"Boy, I got you wore out already?" Jane murmured, finally noticing Maura's labored breathing.

"No," Maura said with a weak laugh. "It was such a long walk from Angela's. Why didn't we just stay at the tavern and get a room tonight?"

"Well for one thing, goin' over there, we didn't know yet if she'd kick us out on our rears," Jane said reasonably. "But for another thing…" She bent down and swept Maura off her feet, continuing the now-short trek to their house with Maura's arms wrapped around her neck. "The walls in that tavern are pretty thin, and even if Angela's accepted that we ain't interested in pursuing anyone else romantically, I don't think she'd have been up for hearin' you scream my name all—night—long."

She punctuated the last three words with quick kisses. These were met with no protest, but after the last one, Maura felt obligated to at least act affronted. "Jane!"

"Oh, what?" Jane asked with a smirk, climbing up their porch. She had never actually told Maura this, but hearing Maura say her name during the height of the act—be it in a shout, a moan, or even a whisper—was a surefire way to send a white-hot jolt like an arrow down from Jane's throat to between her legs. "You're mighty loud, Maura, and ya know it. That's how come we've gotta live so far outside of town. Don't want you disturbing the fine people of the Creek."

Maura huffed as Jane pushed her against the front door, quickly twisting open the knob. "Jane Rizzoli, you are such a—"

What exactly Jane was she never found out, because the rest of Maura's faux indignation was stifled by a hungry kiss. Maura grinned to herself as she heard the door get kicked shut again, and Jane broke off the kiss to carry Maura steadily to the bedroom. Clearly it was time to fully make up.

"That talk about keeping me all night," Maura whispered, kissing Jane's neck. "Was that a threat, or hyperbole?"

"It was a promise," Jane said, depositing Maura on the edge of the bed and shrugging off her vest. It had barely dropped to the floor before Jane was on her hands and knees on the bed, hovering over Maura, who had obligingly gone on her back already. "And you know me," Jane murmured, leaning down. "It may take me a while sometimes, but I don't ever break a promise."

Maura's hands lifted to tangle themselves in Jane's hair, pulling her down a bit too hard for a kiss. They laughed and broke apart for a moment, and once it looked like Jane was ready to try and kiss her again, Maura brushed her thumb over Jane's lips.

"Feel free to take your time tonight, deputy."

* * *

Jane had already been up for half an hour when she heard a knock at the door, so she really had no excuse for opening it in such a haphazard state of dress.

In her defense, she had been doing some pretty heavy thinking after sleeping in later than usual. Sunlight was pouring into the bedroom from the window near the ceiling, casting a beautiful golden glow on Maura's honey-colored hair. Maura was lying on her stomach, facing away from Jane, but there was still plenty for Jane to admire: the blue coverlet, while tucked beneath her arm, exposed much of Maura's bare back and all of her bared shoulder.

Out of habit, Jane still took a second every morning she woke up to ensure that Maura's body was moving with her breathing. This was something she could not help checking each time she saw a sleeping companion. Several years ago, disguised as Jake, she had overheard some men planning to find Frost in the middle of the night and kill him. Rather than tell Frost, Jane had simply suggested they leave town that night, and he agreed. Jane had fully intended to stay awake the entire time Frost slept, but the move had wearied her, and she nodded off for just under an hour. When she woke up, Frost had still been asleep, but for a few terrifying moments, Jane convinced herself somebody had killed him and left his dead body there to taunt her. Fairly quickly, though, she saw his chest going up and down as he slept peacefully, but she was on edge ever the same.

It was a dreadful habit to live with, but Jane couldn't help it. No matter how secure she felt with Maura, that was a paranoia which seemed to refuse to die.

As she sat there watching Maura sleep, it dawned on Jane that if they ever did get around to taking in some children, Maura would have to work on being a bit quieter during their bouts of intimacy. Even though it probably wasn't something to find properly amusing (it would be a legitimate hurdle, she was sure of that), Jane couldn't help grinning to herself at the thought of this. What sobered her up was the realization that they didn't have any room to put children in this house: it had been built for two. Either Jane's cellar would have to be converted into a bedroom for them, or they would need to add on.

Before Jane could decide which of these ideas was better, she had heard a knock on the door. It was quick, but not harried—probably Korsak. She rolled quickly out of bed, grabbing the denim pair of pants Maura had so carelessly tossed to the floor last night, hopping into them and buttoning them with one hand as the other reached for the black, ruffled shirt that had landed perfectly on the far left bed knob.

Half the buttons weren't done correctly and her hair was swept carelessly to one side when Jane finally wrenched the door open. Korsak was indeed the one standing there. "Yes?" Jane asked, sounding a little out of breath.

He raised his eyebrows. "Well there, Sleeping Beauty. I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"What? 'Course not," Jane yawned, opening the door a bit wider so Korsak could come inside before remembering the bedroom door was still open. There was indeed nothing sleepy at all in the manner with which she then quickly sprinted back across the room to close it before Korsak could catch a glimpse of Maura's lack of dress.

"Ain't the doc up yet?" Korsak asked conversationally.

"Uh…no," Jane said, tucking her shirt in. "No, we had kind of a late night. What can I do ya for, Sheriff?"

"Well for starters, you _could_ come in for work," Korsak said, holding out his hands as if to say this was merely an option, although his tone indicated otherwise. "But before you do that, I thought you might like to read this. It came for you yesterday."

"What is it?"

"A letter. From Frost."

"Frost? Where _is _that son of a gun?"

"It's all here in this letter, I'm sure, if it's anything like the one he sent me."

With another yawn, Jane waved her hand at Korsak and headed for the kitchen. There was no food in the house, but Maura had at some point thought to bring in a bucket of water, which Jane was now dipping into. "Go on and read it for me," she said before splashing her face a bit. "I can't read nothin' this early."

"You sure?" Korsak asked, although he was already unfolding the letter. He glanced up, and Jane nodded. "All right then. A-hem: 'Dear Jane. I hope this message finds you and the doc in good health, whenever you do return from Boston. I got the itch to travel a bit myself when you left, and the Sheriff —honorable, good-hearted, selfless fellow that he is—"

"Get back to Frost, Korsak."

"'The Sheriff agreed to let me take off from my duties for a short spell. I hope you don't mind but I went off to find Anna Ferrell, my old girl. I know we were going to go together once we caught Hoyt, but you never said a thing about it after you and Maura got on good terms again.'"

Jane couldn't help feeling a pang of guilt at this. She had been so wrapped up in her own good fortune at having found someone that she had neglected her promise to Frost.

But as if anticipating she would feel that way, Frost's letter went on, "'I hope you don't go feeling bad for letting me down, or not being with me. I only had agreed to let you come along so you'd have something to do, a new goal as it were. I didn't want to go until I felt good and ready, and well, now I feel ready. I haven't found her yet, but I did find a family we all used to be good friends with, and they know where Anna ended up. If you can believe it, she's not married yet. I'll be heading to find her soon, and if she's willing, bringing her back to Hollow Creek as my wife.' Well, I'll be!" Korsak chuckled. "Ain't that somethin'?"

"Sure is!" Jane laughed. "He say anything else?"

Korsak sobered up a bit as he continued to read: "My only fear is that I won't have enough money for her. I know she won't expect or ask for much, but I feel like a man ought to have at least _so__me _security before he goes asking a woman to marry him. So I may take a while to get back once I find her, because I want to try and get any job I can get to make some more money before I ask her.' Huh," Korsak mumbled. "I'd have given him some money upfront if he'd asked for it."

"Nah," Jane muttered, now fully awake. "I don't think he'd have taken it." Korsak asked why, and she shrugged. "That all?"

"Nope. 'So anyhow, write back if you can. I hope to return soon. In the meantime, if you find any spare gold lying around, send it my way! Sincerely, Frost.'" Korsak looked up to see Jane deep in thought. After a long pause, he folded the letter and asked, "I see the cogs goin' in your head. What's on your mind, Calamity Jane?"

She sighed shortly, pounding her fist into an open palm. "I been thinkin' about something lately, Korsak," she said. It had been on her mind since the night she and Maura returned from Boston, and she had symbolically shot through the stage mustache she'd worn as Jake.

"Oh? And what's that?"

Jane pulled a chair over towards the end of the sofa where Korsak had been sitting. She set herself down on it backwards, resting her folded arms on the top. "Y'know who needs a good send-off?" It took a moment, but comprehension finally dawned on Korsak's face, and he did not look particularly pleased about his guess. Jane confirmed it by asking, "What's the going rate these days on Jake Wyatt's head?"


	22. I Thought You Already Knew

**A/N**: Phew! Finally feel like I'm getting back to normal, and of course that includes writing :) I realized there's been a lot of talking in this sequel, so I just wanted to say action's on its way again.

* * *

Jane told Korsak to go outside to wait for her while she grabbed some shoes from the bedroom. Though she had slipped back inside silent as a ghost, she saw Maura stir slightly. With one shoe on, Jane knelt on the bed, leaning over and gently stroking Maura's bare arm. A deep sigh told Jane that Maura was definitely awake, if not entirely alert. She pressed her lips against the back of Maura's neck.

"Mornin', sweetheart." There was an automatic pause, given so Maura would have time to reflect the sentiment, but she was still too tired to do so. Not taking it personally, Jane continued. "I gotta go into town. Korsak needs me."

"Mm?" Maura groaned, starting to sit up.

Gently, Jane pushed Maura back down and met no resistance. "I'm just goin' in to work. If I ain't home sooner, I'll be back around for supper. All right?"

"Right," Maura sighed, hugging her pillow. Jane gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, then sat back up to put on her other shoe. After another sigh, Maura mumbled, "Be safe."

It warmed Jane's heart a little to know that despite Maura's obvious fatigue, she had managed a level of cognizance which allowed her to remember what she always said before Jane left for work. Jane stood up, grabbed a vest and gave her usual response: "As ever I can be, Dr. Isles."

Korsak was fiddling with his hat when Jane finally joined him outside, and the first thing he said was, "No."

"You're just sayin' that outta habit," Jane said confidently, starting the walk into town, knowing Korsak was right behind her. She had picked up a hat before leaving the house, and angled the black brim so it would block her face from the sun. "We've gotta at least talk about this as a possibility before I'll take 'no' for an answer."

"How about 'hell no,' will you take _that _for an answer?"

"Korsak, it's just a thought."

"Yeah? Because I know you ain't stupid, Jane, but this _thought _is pretty damn stupid." He caught up fully, matching Jane's long stride. "What's the big plan, big-shot? Huh?"

"Tell me where you think you the falls are."

"First of all, Jake Wyatt ain't wanted no where near here alive. It's dead, Jane, that's the only way they'll take him. No testimony; they need a body. So then second, you gotta find a doctor in one of them towns who you can fool into thinking you're dead. And third, you'd have to find a Sheriff willing to fork over the reward money to a black man."

Deciding to work backwards, Jane said, "Okay, so then maybe Frost ain't the one who does the actual killin'. He's in on it, though; he'd have to be to feel like he deserved any of the takings. Maybe you could be the guy who kills Jake—you're a Sheriff with a fine reputation. Who better to bring down a piece of dirt like Jake Wyatt? And as far as a doctor goes, well, why don't we just bring in one of our own?"

"You can't possibly mean Maura," Korsak said. "Ain't you the one who said she can't tell a lie? How's she supposed to tell someone a body's dead if she knows it ain't? And that reminds me," he said before Jane could come up with a response. "We've got a real dead body I want you to take a look at."

"Yeah? Who?"

"Know that fancypants judge who just moved into town?"

"Wilkins?"

"The very same. Seems to have taken his own life last night."

"A suicide? Why not just leave it at that, then?"

"Because," Korsak said, a little snidely. "Maybe I feel like givin' you something menial to do after you gave me such a cockeyed plan about Jake Wyatt."

They had reached the corral, where Korsak had parked his surrey. Jane sullenly climbed in after him, and as he started driving off, argued, "It ain't so cockeyed! Listen, Korsak. I reckon there's still people out there who'd like to find Jake dead, right? Some of 'em might never be satisfied if they learned he'd just, I dunno, disappeared from the face of the earth. They could spend their whole lives chasin' down a ghost, and never even know it."

It was hard to miss what Jane was getting at. "You thinkin' of you and Hoyt?" Korsak asked.

Jane grimaced. During the years she had searched for her parents' killer, she had been plagued by the fear that maybe she had missed her chance and he had already died. But how would she ever know, when he left no name or picture to trace?

"I just think there are a lot of people out there who want me dead," Jane muttered, thoughtlessly tracing the scar on her left hand. "And not just scamps, Korsak. Sheriffs, like you, and good townspeople who'd maybe sleep a little easier knowin' Jake Wyatt was out of rotation for good." She clasped her hands together to keep them from fidgeting, and leaned forward a bit. "Don'tcha think that could be a good idea?" she asked hopefully. "Give people some—what d'you call it…"

"Closure?" Korsak offered.

"Yeah, closure! C'mon, Korsak, it ain't such an awful idea."

Korsak sighed gruffly, glancing at Jane. Her eagerness was difficult to turn down. "I dunno, Jane. I was real glad when you got rid of Hoyt—not just 'cause it meant he was gone, but because I thought it meant you wouldn't run off as Jake anymore."

"I ain't runnin' off, Korsak," Jane said. "It's a set plan for a set time."

"That don't matter. It's still a run." He looked over at Jane again, annoyed that she didn't seem to grasp how that could be an issue. His agitation was evident in his tone when he added, "That means it's another chance for some ruffian to put a real bullet through your hide!"

Jane had scoffed before he even finished the sentence. "Aw, c'mon, Korsak! I ain't ever been killed yet, have I?"

"Why take the chance when there ain't no point to it, Jane?"

"I already told ya, there _is _a point! There's more than one! Pick a town what bothers ya, Korsak, any town with a reward on Jake's head, and that's where we'll go. Frost'll get the money for killin' off one of the most hated and feared figures in the West, so he can marry his girl with a clear conscience, and we rid everyone else of a nightmare."

"What about me?" Korsak asked, his voice weak and a little high-pitched. "What about my nightmare?" He took a deep breath, this time not bothering to catch Jane's expression. "I've had to suffer through this alone for fifteen years, Jane. Angela and your brothers always just figured you was out having a gay old time however and wherever you wanted, but they didn't have a reason to believe your life was ever in any danger. I couldn't tell a soul what I knew! I haven't hardly slept for years because all I could do was worry between your letters that something was happening to ya! When you got hurt, I barely got the details, and I still have no idea if my imagination was better or worse than what really went on."

"Korsak…"

"And every time you came back, I thought, good! Now maybe she'll stay, now maybe she'll be safe, but then off you'd go again, doin' God knows what! You used to count on me, you used to let me help and protect you, but then you teamed up with Frost and I was out of the loop. It's been hell for me too, Jane, not knowing where your parents' killer was. But it was ten times worse never knowing for sure what state you'd come back in, if you managed to come back at all."

They had reached the office, and Korsak pulled the carriage to a stop. He didn't get out and neither did Jane, who was feeling lower than she'd have liked. She reached over to put an arm around Korsak's shoulders, and though he flinched at first, Jane kept her hold and he didn't pull away.

"Gosh, old man," she whispered. "I had no idea you felt _that_ way about it. I'm …I mean …" She swallowed hard when Korsak turned red but dry eyes in her direction. What _did _she mean? "You wouldn't be outta the loop on this one. You'd be in from start to finish. It'd be the nail in Jake's coffin, Korsak, honest."

Korsak shifted out of her grip and got out of the carriage. "Let's finish this conversation inside," he muttered, and Jane noticed the people milling around on the dusty street for the first time.

They were met near the door by Frankie, who Korsak told to remain outside and keep them from being disturbed. The swinging front doors did not offer much privacy, but so long as they kept their voices down and went to the far end of the room, Frankie wouldn't be able to hear any words they exchanged over the noise of the hustle and bustle outside.

"So it never occurred to you?" Korsak asked softly, sitting at his desk and staring at it. "You never thought about how hard it was for me to send you out there, when you were just a young girl?"

"I wasn't so young, Korsak," Jane mumbled. "Grew up before my time. Hoyt saw to that." She defensively stuck her hands in her pockets and leaned against the wall. "And it didn't never occur to me, neither—that you'd feel that way, I mean. I always just figured …I dunno, that you were the Sheriff. You dealt with hard stuff all the time. I didn't think it'd keep ya up nights. I thought you were just antsy for me to stay and settle down."

The derision in her tone on those last two words got Korsak to look up, and she met his gaze, keeping it for a while. He leaned back in his chair, surveying her. "What're you now, Jane, thirty?"

"Yup."

"If I ask you to be straight with me, will you?"

Her lack of hesitation in answering surprised her a bit. "Yep."

"All right." He took a deep breath. "I promise this'll be the last time I ask ya. Now that Hoyt's dead… and you're planning on getting rid of Jake Wyatt… are you thinking any more seriously about the possibility of getting married?" When Jane shook her head, Korsak added, "I don't mean necessarily this week or even this year. I mean _ever? _You don't want to get married?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

It was such a simple question, even if he already knew the answer. If she were younger and a bit more petulant, Jane would have been tempted to ask what was so great about marriage when Korsak himself had had three wives up and leave him. But she knew that would be too harsh—and besides, he was only looking out for her well-being.

She shrugged. "I figure…I dunno. What's a husband good for that I can't get or do for myself?"

"So you ain't the marrying _or _mothering type then, huh?"

"C'mon, Korsak," Jane almost laughed. "When have I ever been the mothering type? Besides, I decided long ago I didn't wanna be responsible for bringing something as pure and innocent as a baby into the world we got. Most of the people I've met ain't worth meeting, and most of the hell I've gone through ain't nothin' I want to ever expose to a child I had a hand in taking outta heaven. But…" She scuffed the toe of her boot across the floor, tracing an imaginary line. "I thought maybe someday I'd do what Angela done, and help bring up some kids who're here already and ain't got their parents anymore."

She tossed the idea off casually, belying how hard her heart was racing in genuine fear that her father figure would disapprove of this notion.

But Korsak merely nodded and said, "Sounds like a mighty respectable idea. So, Jane. You happy?"

"Real happy, Korsak."

"How about Dr. Isles?"

"How's that?"

"I mean, you two seem to share quite a commitment—fixing up that house together and all. What're you gonna do if she decides she's ready to try marriage?"

"She ain't gonna be, Korsak," Jane said shortly. "I have her word, and you have mine. Maura and I—we're stickin' together."

During the silence the followed, Jane returned her gaze to the floor. This was not new information to Korsak, as Maura and Jane had been very upfront with him and the Rizzoli boys while hey were working on the house about their intent to live out their lives together. True they had left out certain details of what their relationship involved, but Jane had thought that Korsak had accepted or at least believed them when they had professed no interest in marriage. Why was he bringing it up again now?

"Well, then."

"What, Korsak?" Jane asked, still sensitive about issues Angela had brought up. "Think I'm cutting Maura a rotten deal?"

"Oh no, nothing like that," Korsak said airily. "As a matter of fact, I was thinking of some Navajos I came across in my travels once. Their chief knew a bit of English, and he was good enough to let me and Cavanaugh spend a few days in their camp while we waited for some supplies to get to us." As he talked, Korsak stood up and walked over to a tall chest, and began fishing through some of the top drawers. "Know what we noticed?"

Curiosity was trumping the confusion in where this conversation was going. "What?"

"All the women were usually clumped around doing, well, women's stuff, y'know—sewing the blankets, making baskets, things like that. But there was a man in there with 'em, and he never did a thing with the other men in the tribe, really. So we asked the Chief what the deal was with that guy, and… well, that's where a few things got a little lost in translation."

He had reached a stuck drawer, and got distracted trying to wrench it open. Finally flicking out a penknife to wedge the gap, he forgot he had even been talking at all until Jane urgently pressed him to go on. "So? Did ya get anything about him?"

"Not much, except he seemed to be—well, I guess what you'd call the wife of another man in the tribe," Korsak grunted, pushing his knife harder. "We still ain't so sure what all his wifely duties entailed exactly, and whether they extended beyond the mere feminine tasks we had observed."

"What about this other man, then?" Jane asked, as Korsak took out a kerchief to wipe the sweat off his hands. "Was he a—did he do women's stuff too, then?"

Korsak's tone remained light. "Oh, no. No, he was about as regular a man as the others. Pretty much all we got from the Chief was that so long as all the bases were covered, he didn't see no problem in the relationship. Point was, he didn't want nobody in the tribe to be alone. So I figure…" He jostled the drawer again. "It's sort of like what you and Dr. Isles have goin'. Where one of ya lacks, the other one picks up the slack. And it don't take a mystic to see how much you two look out for each other."

With one more great shove, Korsak got the drawer open. "Why're you tellin' me all this, Korsak?" Jane asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

Reverently, the Sheriff pulled out a small box that had been in the drawer, and he walked towards Jane. "I guess when you and Maura first moved into that house, I kinda figured that it'd only be temporary. You were both still upset over things that'd happened somewhat recently at the time, and it was only natural you should be distrustful of entering any sort of serious relationship with a man. But you seem pretty insistent that nobody's going to come between you two."

Jane folded her arms tightly. "Nobody ever will."

"In that case, it's probably time I gave you this."

Korsak opened the little box and held it for Jane to look inside. She peered over, and after a moment, reached carefully into the box. In one hand she now held a pair of sapphire earrings, and in the other, a delicate comb with a white pearl finish.

"What're these?" she asked breathlessly, finally pulling her gaze from the beautiful objects back to Korsak.

"They belonged to your mother."

Jane's grip on the items tightened for a moment, but then she placed them hurriedly back into the box as if they had burned her. Korsak gently closed the lid.

"Where'd you get 'em?" she asked, nervously sticking her hands in her back pockets.

"Your father gave them to me, just a year or two after your mother passed. Seems he thought there was a chance her killer might come back for him, and in case that happened, he wanted to make sure nobody came looting around for your mother's things. I was given very specific instructions about when to give these to you, Jane."

He stopped there, possibly for dramatic effect, and Jane nearly felt her heart stop along with him. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. They were given to your mother by _her _mother on the day she got married, as they had also been given to your grandmother as a wedding gift. Your father wanted you to have them when you settled down one day. Stupid of me," he said with a shrug. "I suppose I should've given them to you at that housewarming party of yours."

It was suddenly becoming difficult for Jane to get air to her lungs. Taking a deep breath, she asked, "Why'd he give them to you? Why not Angela?"

Korsak managed a laugh. "He figured Angela would try to give 'em to ya before you were ready to respect them. And she would've, you know. She was so desperate to turn you into the kind of lady who'd wear and use them as much as appreciate 'em. For years I thought these things would just wind up collecting dust in that old chest of drawers over there, 'cause I didn't see you ever getting married. And I guess you won't, but that don't mean you shouldn't ever have 'em in your possession." He firmly pushed the box into Jane's hands, not letting go until he was sure she had a steady grip on it. "I don't know that I can see you wearing the earrings, or even using that comb—"

"My tangles would put it through the ringer," Jane said with a shaky laugh, and Korsak granted her a smile.

"But I thought maybe, if you wanted, Maura might really like to have them."

One of Jane's hands brushed automatically against the vest pocket which held Desmond Isles' pocket watch. "Uh… gosh, Korsak, I dunno what to say."

"Say you think it's a swell idea so I don't have to worry about Tom's spirit haunting me!"

Though Jane was fighting back tears, she managed a smile. "I think it's a swell idea, Sheriff."

Korsak returned the grin, and chuckled again when Jane embraced him. He affectionately thumped her back a bit, and with Jane's choked laughter came a few of those tears. When they pulled apart, Korsak was kind enough to pretend not to notice she was wiping them away.

"Sorry I've made ya worry all these years," Jane said. "I knew you was always lookin' out for me, Korsak, but I didn't ever think I tortured ya. How is it that sorta stuff worried ya, but you don't blink an eye having me as your deputy?"

"Ah, well. I didn't know where you were going or what you were doing when Jake was off on his escapades. Being in the dark's a mighty terrifying thing, Jane. And especially when you were younger, you were real reckless. That, combined with the danger in posing as an outlaw, was enough to keep me up nights. It's like how today, I ain't calm just 'cause I know what you're up to when you're workin for me. It's that I know even if you do what it takes to get the job done, you ain't so reckless. I know you still care about gettin' the bad guy, but _I know_ you care more about making sure you come back to Dr. Isles in one piece."

She had never thought to articulate it that way, but instantly it felt like the perfect way to explain her curbed rashness. "Yes, sir," she whispered.

"So then you see how else this complicates your plan."

"What plan?"

"This whole Jake Wyatt business. Maura might have a thing or two to say about you running off for something so dangerous."

"Oh," Jane said softly. "Yeah, I'd… I'd maybe better run it by her."

"Could be a good idea, yeah. In fact, uh, I was thinking something else too, Jane."

"What?"

"D'you know if Maura's ever been to the scene of a crime?"

Jane snorted. "Don't think so." _Not after the fact. The run-in with Hoyt put her _in_ the scene of a crime._ "But I reckon she's seen some pretty gruesome things at her father's hospital and all. Why?"

Korsak leisurely went back to sit at his desk. "Well, remember what she told us when she first came here? Said it'd been her job at the hospital to study cause of death. She thought maybe she could help us do the same thing out here."

"Huh. I'd forgotten about that. You got a body for her to look at?"

"Judge Wilkins."

"Judge…didn't you just tell me he'd taken his own life?"

"That's what I find so troublesome," Korsak said. "Man up and moves here all the way from—where was it, Wyoming? Brings all his worldly possessions, plans to set up home and make a name for himself and these parts, and all so he can kill himself after being here less than a month?"

Frowning, Jane slipped the box Korsak had given her into one of her pockets. "You think maybe it was set up to look like a suicide?"

"That's my hunch. I figure it'd sure help if Dr. Isles could tell us anything."

"Good thinkin', Korsak. I'll go back to the house and ask her right now."

Korsak slapped a hand on his desk and stood back up. "All right. I'll do the rounds once, then meet you at the Judge's house. He lives—lived—in the new part of town, just two houses east of where Fairfield was. Got it?"

"Got it. Can I borrow your carriage?"

"Sure thing."

"I got one more request to make, then, Korsak."

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh? And what's that?"

"Well, it ain't so much a request as it is a…well, actually, I guess it _would _be a request. Maura asked me if I'd teach her how to get rid of an attacker."

"Showed her how to use a gun, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but I mean—what if someone came by the house at night, when I wasn't in town? What if she was asleep, and this guy got the drop on her? I don't like leavin' her, Korsak, knowing she might not be as protected as she could be. I don't like thinkin' of her being all the way on that side of town, alone."

Trying to keep up, Korsak said, "So you'd like for me to have a deputy go twice to your house on the rounds, when you and me are outta town?"

"No, that wouldn't be enough."

"You want me to station one up there?"

"No, Korsak, we both know ya couldn't spare the manpower."

"Exactly. So what's your request?"

"I wanna get another dog," Jane said quickly. "You know I love Jo Friday, and she's about as loyal a mutt as a body could hope for, but it'd only take one kick to get her outta the way." She swung her foot out to demonstrate, then instantly regretted it. It was too easy to picture Jo trying to protect someone in the family and getting swiftly disposed of by some thoughtless rogue.

Beckoning her to follow him, Korsak headed towards the front door again. "I think I may have just what you need."

They traipsed along the porch past Frankie, going around to the back of the building where Jane had first seen Jo. She could distinctly remember Jo's tired-looking mother, who hadn't been too big herself. The enclosure she was now looking at housed a very sizeable looking dog, light brown in color with a black stripe that went from the tip of her nose down to her back. Her fur was shorter than Jo's could ever hope to be. Pointed ears flicked up when Korsak and Jane walked into view, and the dog leapt almost instantly to her feet. She began pacing back and forth in front of four sleeping puppies, all of whom matched her coloring except for an entirely black one on the end.

"Wow," Jane breathed. "Now _that _there's a guard dog."

"I got 'em from Mr. Bass while you were gone," Korsak said. "Asked how his namesake was coming along, by the way."

"Not too bad, especially considering we put Tommy in charge of lookin' after him while we were in Boston."

Korsak chuckled. "Yes, well. Anyhow, he had just gotten back from Germany when I saw him, and he brought this dog with him. He said he thought they might be useful for a Sheriff to have, on account of they're mighty protective and a bit fierce by nature. You get one of them pups to your house as soon as they can leave their mother, and I reckon you can breed a beast who'd sooner lose his head than let anyone lay a hand on you or the doc. And while Jo may feel a similar sentiment, the difference would be that _this _creature here will have the size to back it up."

"Wow," Jane whispered again, leaning over the fence a little bit. The patrolling mother instantly snapped, baring her teeth and growling. She did not relent until Jane had straightened up again. "Well. If I can ever get in there, I'd really love to have one, Korsak."

"You may want to run that by Dr. Isles first, though. If I recollect correctly, she ain't too fond of dogs. Made an exception for Jo Friday."

"I'll make her see reason," Jane said, already head-over-heels for the darkest puppy.

"And how will you do that?"

"Oh, don't you worry, Korsak," Jane laughed, clapping a hand on his back. "I have my ways."

They almost left it at that, but before they walked back around to the front of the station, Korsak gently took Jane by the elbow. "Okay, deputy. I know you could probably win Maura's favor on anything just by turning on a bit of your charm, but that ain't gonna work on me when it comes back to Jake Wyatt. You can talk sweet, you can smile, or you can yell all you want. I ain't gonna give into this plan without a fight."

"Just for the sake of argument, Korsak, did it ever occur to ya that if we wanted to, Frost and I could do this all without your help?"

"You do that, and you're out of a job," Korsak said seriously. "You're a big help around here, Jane. I won't have you frivolously running around getting into trouble just for a little cash."

"I don't do nothin' frivolous, Korsak."

"All the same. Are you hearing me?"

"Yes, sir. Understood."

"All right then. I'll see you and the Doc at the Judge's house."


	23. Judgement Call

When Jane returned home and presented Maura with Maria Rizzoli's earrings and comb, she wept for a solid two minutes. Seeing Maura cry usually meant Jane had a difficult time keeping her eyes dry as well, and it left Jane feeling so emotionally exhausted that she worried she wouldn't be able to actually get anything else accomplished today.

The inherent sentimentality in the items would have been moving enough on their own, but what had really sent Jane in particular over the edge was the willingness with which Korsak had given them over. If her father _had _chosen to leave the heirlooms with Angela, Jane had to wonder if, after learning the nature of Jane and Maura's relationship, Angela might have given them to Frankie or Tommy for one of their wives. Korsak's knowledge was a detail Jane made sure Maura was aware of, relaying it as she watched Maura carefully put the earrings in place.

"What a fine man he is," Maura sniffed. "I remember being impressed with him the first day I met him—and a lot of that stemmed from his relationship with you."

"How d'you mean?"

"He was the law around here, and he not only knew about your posturing at Jake; he apparently encouraged it," Maura replied. "There's a trust between you two that nobody else can quite touch. You're like Deborah and Barak!"

Jane laughed. "Who?"

"Oh Jane, you must remember the story of Deborah," Maura said patiently. "She was the ancient prophetess of the Israelites, who was so respected by the chief soldier Barak that he refused to go into battle without her by his side." She glanced away from the mirror to catch Jane's ponderous expression. "Or perhaps that's an analogy more suited to reflecting your relationship with Frost. Speaking of whom—where _is _that man?"

It took Jane a moment to answer, because she had to decide which version she wanted to share at this juncture: she felt that bringing up her plan about Jake Wyatt had the potential to bring Maura too rapidly and too harshly out of the bliss she was feeling right now.

"Believe it or not, he's gone off to go try and find his old girl," Jane said. "I got a letter from him, actually, saying he wants to marry her and bring her back. Reckons he's close to finding her."

"Is he really?" Maura gasped, smiling as she turned and walked towards Jane, who was leaning against the back of the sofa. She put her arms around Jane's neck and leaned in as Jane's hands automatically went to rest on Maura's hips. "How terribly romantic."

"I thought so," Jane murmured, granting Maura a brief kiss. "I hope he'll come back soon, though. I sorta miss havin' him around."

"You're sweet," Maura laughed. "Do you know his girl?"

Jane half-shrugged, not wanting to get into it. "We've met. She was there when I first met Frost."

That was enough of an answer for Maura, who realized from Jane's solemnity that it was a slightly touchy subject. Not because the memory was painful, but because Jane felt guilty for having taken Frost away from the only loved ones he'd had left. Frost may have made the choice to go himself, but had Anna and her family seen it that way? Would he ever have been persuaded to leave behind his new and normal life, free and surrounded by love, if Jane hadn't rolled into town and encouraged his thirst for vengeance?

* * *

"_You leaving, Jane?"_

"_Think so. He ain't here—ain't much here, to be honest." She tipped her hat. "No offense."_

_He grimaced, and his flat tone seemed to indicate he agreed with her when he said, "None taken."_

"_So, it's on to the next. Thanks for your help, though."_

"_Didn't get you too far."_

"_Well, it was good to have someone in on it, to be honest."_

"_Thought you said your Sheriff was in on it it."_

"_Yeah, but he ain't __with__ me, not in person."_

_There was silence for a few moments, both of them contemplating the other. In the short amount of time they had known each other, they had learned of characteristics which would make for an invaluable partner: Jane's bravado and drive, Frost's skill with a weapon which was maintained in addition to a cool, logical head. His sense of humor gave Jane the first few honest laughs she'd had in quite a while, and it had felt nice to have someone to rely on, to brood with, to talk to about all of this. She looked up and caught Frost's expression, as if he was on the verge of asking for something._

"_You can't come with me," she said shortly._

"_Why not?"_

"_You're only a kid, Frost!"_

"_You don't exactly need a walking stick there yourself, Jane! Look—if the two of us work together, we're bound to get somewhere faster!"_

"_It ain't the same, Frost, you got people here who care about you."_

"_What about them brothers you mentioned? They ain't sad you're gone?" He sighed shortly, having already witnessed Jane's stubbornness. "These folks I'm with, they loved my parents. They'd be proud to know I'm doin' something about their deaths. At least you've got the law trying to work with you, Jane. There ain't a judge or Sheriff anywhere in his damn country who'd so much as lift a finger to help a former slave like me." _

_This image of Frost, his hands clasped together and his youthful face filled with earnest if naïve energy, was what helped Jane give in to his offer. "Tell me what you know about pain," she said._

_He scoffed, rolling up one sleeve. "Where d'you want me to start?"_

"_Ever seen a dead body? Ever had just nearly kill someone to save your own hide? Ever been knocked out?" She waited for an answer, and received none. "Your silence is very reassuring, Frost."_

"_Give me a chance," he huffed. "There are some things I can do a helluva lot better than you, Jane, if your pride don't get in the way."_

"_What'd you say to me?"_

"_You heard me!"_

_Jane fired a fist at him, and Frost ducked, stepping around her. When Jane swung around to face him again, he was ready. A second attempted punch was blocked, and followed by a swift belt to the stomach, sending Jane to the ground. Rather than spring back to her feet, Jane sat up enough to catch her breath. She admired that Frost still had his hands up, ready to strike and defend himself again if necessary. _

_ "None too shabby," she said. _

_ He offered her a hand back up, and she accepted it. "You may be a girl, but you're a girl with hair on her chest," he said, getting a laugh out of her. _

_ "Glad you think so," she chuckled, but she sobered up pretty quickly. "You listen up, Frost, this is serious. We could die out there. We could get killed out there."_

_ She had paused to let this sink in, but Frost took it as his turn to speak: "Every minute we waste not lookin' for this man, some man and his wife could be getting killed by him."_

_ "It means there ain't much time for anything else," Jane went on. "You gotta leave everything and everybody behind, Frost. We can't drop by to visit your friends here."_

_ "You don't ever go home?"_

_ "I have to. The Sheriff needs me to check in every now and then."_

_ "Why don't you just write him?"_

_ "Can't write too good. And besides, even if I could, there's a chance somebody could intercept a letter."_

_ "Anything else?" he asked stiffly._

_ "Yeah. We don't talk about nothin' but the man we're lookin' for. I don't care if we're gone ten years; ya don't ask me nothin' else about my life or gettin' married or nothin' like that, understand? And no funny business."_

_ She waved her hand between them, and Frost's eyebrows raised. "Well. I was about to say the same thing." The shadow of a smirk flitted across Jane's face, and Frost figured that had given him the right to ask something else. "One more thing, then. About your disguise…"_

_ "It's necessary," Jane said brusquely, all traces of amusement gone. "Now I'm leaving this town in the morning, Frost, with or without you. I won't lie; I think I could sure use some help if you'd give it to me and not let me down. You __sure__ you want to do this? It seems like you've got a pretty decent life goin' on here. Decent as ya can, anyhow."_

_ Frost squared his shoulders. He wasn't quite as tall as Jane, but what he lacked in height he made up for in muscle. As he looked sternly at her, Jane realized why she had taken to Frost so quickly: she was not accustomed to being on the receiving end of a look which held so much respect. _

_ "All my life I've had people telling me what to do," Frost said. "Where to go, what to be, how to act. It wasn't even my idea to come here, really. I just didn't have nothin' left when my folks were killed, and I ain't known what to really do. Now I know. I know what I'm supposed to be doing, and that's ride right along by your side. It's finding the man who did this to our parents. It's my choice, and I'll be damned if I take 'no' for an answer."_

_ He held out his hand, and Jane grasped it tightly. _

_ "This is sacred, Frost," she said, holding his gaze as well as his grip. While the words were true, there was still the young woman in her who couldn't help feeling proud of the importance of this pact, and Frost got the hint of an impression that he was witnessing a performance. "There's a whole world out there waiting for us to explore it, to search it. To really live in it."_

_ "I hear that," Frost replied. _

_ "Do ya like whatcha hear?"_

_ "Yeah."_

* * *

Jane came out of her reverie when she heard Maura softly saying her name. The doctor looked a little concerned, and Jane made a futile effort to smile again. But the solemnity was here to stay, and rather than own up to what was actually on her mind, Jane switched to a topic that was really no more cheerful. "The Sheriff's got a favor to ask ya, Dr. Isles."

"Oh?"

"Yes."

"Is it his back again? You know," Maura said, holding up a finger and adopting a very academic tone, "Back pain is the second most common ailment in the United States."

"What's the most common ailment, your fun facts?" Jane asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Headaches." Maura narrowed her eyes. "Are you making fun of me?"

"Yes." At Maura's continued perturbed glare, Jane sighed, "I'm sorry. I'm just frustrated."

"About what?"

"A lot of things." Jane glanced up, not feeling up to indulging the look of concerned curiosity on Maura's face at the moment. She sighed again and stood straight, dropping her hands from the small of Maura's back, instead shoving them into her pockets. "Look, about Korsak. There's a body been found over in the nice side of town. Judge Wilkins."

Maura gasped sympathetically. "Oh! The poor judge! Where was he found?"

"Well—his house."

"His…oh."

"First glance says it's a suicide, but Korsak reckons there might be more to it than that. And he's hoping maybe you could help us tell."

"That depends on the nature of the suicide," Maura answered, trying to stay calm. While she had been exposed to gruesome injuries in her work, none of them in Hollow Creek had been the result of malice. "My father preferred to keep me away from the bodies of those who had used a bullet, but… other methods, he showed me." Her voice became quieter, contemplative. "He thought it was important for me to see what happened to a body whose soul had taken its own life—that the damage done to the physical body was naught compared to the pain which would later be wreaked upon the soul. Suicide is a terrible sin, he said."

Choosing to ignore the last sentiment, Jane said, "Well, I ain't sure what happened exactly. Would ya mind comin' over to his house with me? I was gonna meet Korsak there."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Maura said. "My first appointment today is with Ellen Smith, and she doesn't live far from the Judge."

A short while later, the women had both saddled up their different horses and begun heading over to the nice part of town. They kept an unhurried pace, making it easier for Maura to occasionally glance over at Jane and read her troubled expression.

Deputy Rizzoli had never looked this unsettled on her way to work, as far as Maura knew. She tended to approach each challenge with an impressive enthusiasm; not necessarily always happy, but at least energetic. Clearly, something else was weighing on her mind, perhaps to do with Frost. The mention of his name was what had driven her into this more somber, silent state all of a sudden. Just as Maura was wondering how she might ease Jane into a better state of mind—if not a very talkative one, yet—Jane spoke up.

"Hey. Did I tell ya how beautiful those earrings look on you?"

Maura smiled gently. "Why, no. You didn't."

Reflecting the grin somewhat, Jane nodded and said, "Those earrings look real beautiful on you."

When they reached the Judge's house, it was to see the Sheriff already on the porch waiting for them. Jane swung herself quickly off her horse, then went over to Wind Whistler to untie Maura's bag of medical supplies. Nodding at Korsak, Jane tossed him the bag, then positioned herself to better assist Maura in getting off her own horse. Despite the grisly scene he had just visited inside, Korsak couldn't help but smile a little at Jane's gentility, a trait he had only seen emerge from her around Dr. Isles.

"Lovely earrings, doc," he said, as the women walked up to the porch.

"Thank you, Sheriff," she returned. Her tone and her gaze both sufficiently communicated that she was thanking him not only for the compliment, but for the manner in which he had allowed the jewelry to come into her possession. But they sobered up fairly quickly when Maura asked gently, "Where is the body?"

"His bedroom. Strangulation." He cocked his head a little when Maura frowned thoughtfully. "Think you can help us, Dr. Isles?"

She walked past him to get into the house, taking her bag from him as she went. "Possibly."

Frankie was standing in the hallway, and led Maura to the right room. He had been patrolling the area when the body had been found early that morning by Judge Wilkins' elderly neighbor, who had come by to borrow some ink. Hearing the man's hysteric scream, Frankie had run into the house and seen the worst. In an effort to calm the neighbor somewhat, Frankie had then taken the liberty of placing the judge in a less wicked-looking position.

"So?" Jane asked, as Maura peered closely at the Judge.

"Patience," Maura muttered, looking at Jane over her shoulder. "You three could do me a lot of good by giving me some time alone with the victim to examine him."

That was good enough for Frankie and Korsak, who instantly returned to the hallway, but Jane couldn't help staying back for a moment. "You sure?" she asked softly.

Maura straightened up and turned to look at her. Jane was grimacing, kneading her hands, unsure of how right it felt to leave Maura alone in a scene like this. "Yes," Maura assured her, appreciating the concern. "I assure you I'll be fine."

"Okay," Jane mumbled. "Call when you need us."

When Jane appeared in the hallway, shutting the bedroom door behind her, Frankie said, "So! Korsak here tells me you're looking into getting one of his dogs."

"Yeah," Jane said absently.

"Don't think Jo Friday will get jealous?" he teased her.

"Those dogs are bigger," Jane said, leaning against the wall. "They could take someone on if they had to."

"Someone like who?"

"I dunno. Someone who might come to the house at the end of town at night, when I'm away on business," Jane replied in the same flat, slightly harried voice. "I don't want the only things standing between my—between Maura and some thug to be a tortoise and a dog the size of a cat."

Frankie shrugged. "Well _I _could just go watch the house if ya want, while you're away. Then Maura wouldn't have to be alone."

Korsak slapped him upside the head before Jane could even respond to that one. "You think I can spare you for such long periods of time?"

"Well how about Tommy then?" Frankie suggested.

"_Hell _no am I letting Tommy spend the night at mine and Maura's house when I ain't there," Jane said defiantly, folding her arms. "I don't care if he was even sleepin' out on the porch; I don't want him there. I'd sooner trust a dog."

"He could use a change of scene," Frankie said. When Jane furrowed her brow, Frankie glanced at Korsak, and said, "He's been sneaking off every now and then. I don't know where or why, but I'd put down some honest money that he's seeing some girl."

"Is that why you've been asking for time off lately?" Korsak asked. "You wanna trail him?"

"Sort of," Frankie said with a shrug. "It'd just be nice to know what exactly _one _of my siblings is up to now and then."

Maura opened the bedroom door, preventing any further discussion of the topic at hand.

"Well?" Jane asked.

With a burdened sigh, Maura explained, "The bruising and deep tissue injury around the ligature exceeds the circumference of the noose."

"Fifteen words where just one would have sufficed," Jane said, sounding as baffled as Frankie and Korsak looked.

Maura's expression was nearly explanation enough. "It wasn't a suicide," she said gravely. "This was murder."


	24. Expect the Unexpected

"Frankie, I want somebody watching this block around the clock. Until Frost gets back, that means you and Jane will be sharing that responsibility. For now, you stick here in the house, and I'll go ask his neighbors a few questions. One thing that's very important for you all to understand: as of right now, the killer believes he is the only one who knows this was not a suicide. That means we keep our mouths shut about the truth unless we are in utmost privacy. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Jane and Frankie said in unison, as Maura nodded.

Korsak nodded back. "Good. Now as I said, I'm just gonna go do a little digging. See how well the Judges neighbors knew him, and if they have any clues about why he may have wanted to take his own life."

"But how will that help us if we _know _he didn't?" Frankie asked.

"You can learn a lot by asking the right people a few questions," Jane muttered.

"Well if you know so much, why don't you let me watch you interrogate a few?"

"Not a bad idea," Korsak said. "Jane you—"

"We gotta stop by your office first," Jane said, indicating herself and Maura. Though the doctor looked a little confused, Korsak nodded in understanding and told her to go ahead and borrow his carriage.

"But I'm supposed to be meeting a patient," Maura protested as Jane all but dragged her over to the carriage. "Ellen—"

"—is no doubt just seconds away from getting questioned by Korsak or Frankie," Jane said briskly. "She'll be fine to hold out for a couple of minutes. This is a real quick errand you and I've got to do before I start work on this case."

Maura still sounded confused as Jane hurriedly snapped the reins, starting the carriage back into town. "But what does that have to do with me?"

"You'll see when we get there," Jane grumbled, and it didn't take long for them to reach their destination. They were at the Sheriff's office, which Maura supposed wasn't too surprising due to where they had just been, but she was still wondering what exactly her purpose was here. Jane held open one of the swinging doors for her, then followed Maura inside and made a beeline for Korsak's desk. From the top drawer, she retrieved a large, worn Bible and held it in front of Maura. "Gloves off."

Somewhat apprehensively, Maura did as she was told, blushing slightly when Jane took the gloves and stuck them into her back pocket. She indicated for Maura to put her hand on the holy book, and after a moment's hesitation, Maura complied.

Jane's speech was hurried, but sounded rehearsed—she had memorized this spiel after hearing Korsak say it to her, Frankie, and Frost: "Maura Dorothea Isles. On this day the twenty-third of September in the year of our Lord eighteen-hundred and eighty-five, you are hereby sworn in as a member of Hollow Creek, Arizona's Law…" She grimaced during her one hang-up. "_Enforcement_ Department, Sheriff Vincent Korsak presiding."

"Good heavens, you aren't deputizing me, are you?" Maura gasped, nearly withdrawing her hand.

"No," Jane scowled, slightly annoyed that Maura was interrupting procedure.

"Well then what _are _you doing?"

"I just said! I'm swearin' you in as a member of the team."

"I've leant my advice before, and you never did anything about it."

"Yeah, but you didn't never lend us your full-on expertise," Jane pointed out. "You're involved now, which means I'm obligated to make sure you understand your duties."

"Oh. What are my duties?"

Jane returned to her practiced, official-sounding tone: "It is requested that you hereby swear on this here Bible to honor the law and do your best to protect the citizens of this town-and-any-town-wherein-your-help …according-to-the—to-assisting-the-law may be required. Er, requested. Do you agree to these terms?"

Adopting Jane's soberness, Maura replied, "I do."

"Good." Jane pulled the book away and stowed it back to the desk.

"Do I get a badge, or are those only for deputies?" Maura teased.

"Sorry, no badge for you," Jane said, finally allowing a small grin to grace her features. Instead of a badge, she offered Maura a quick kiss on the cheek. "Although that reminds me—I never did get a new one after I gave mine to Charlotte's son." Maura smiled at the sentimentality, but Jane's faded rather quickly. "In all seriousness, though, Maura. Like Korsak said, we don't want nobody to know what you had to say about the Judge unless it's strictly necessary."

"Why not?"

"Whoever killed him could still be here. If they are, for now, they'll likely suspect we all believed it was a suicide. The longer they're in the dark about what you told us, the safer you'll be."

Maura couldn't fight the truth to this notion. "All right," she agreed softly. "So… was that all just procedure?"

"Yup," Jane said, leading the way back outside. "Now one more thing before you get goin'."

She reached for Maura's hand and took her around to the back of the building, where Korsak's newly acquired German shepherds were housed. Maura let out a short yelp when the sizable mother rose quickly to her feet, growling fiercely after letting out a loud bark.

"What kind of a beast is that?" she cried, clinging to Jane's shoulder.

"It's a dog, Maura."

"It's a horse!"

"A dog. I was thinkin' it might maybe be nice to get Jo Friday a little companion, y'know?"

"A '_little_' companion?!" Maura asked. "Jane, you realize any one of those puppies is bound to grow into—into _that!" _She gestured at the mother, whose protective stance and rows of bared teeth made her resemble something more like a wolf than a dog.

Giving Maura's arm an assuring pat, Jane said, "Don't get all riled up about her behavior. She's just bein' a mother."

"That's no type of mothering _I've _ever seen."

"She don't know us," Jane carefully explained. "So she don't trust us. We're bigger than her, and not counting her pretty helpless puppies, we outnumber her—so she thinks we're a threat, and she's doin' her best to protect the pack. Maura? You better believe that if you and I ever get around to takin' in some kids, that is _exactly _the kind of mother I'm gonna be."

And for a moment, Maura indulged herself in a fantasy, imagining Jane fighting tooth and nail to protect a child from any perceived danger. It was an inspiring image to her, but she could see how easily it would intimidate someone else.

"So you want to get one of these things as a playmate for Jo."

"Well…" Jane absently picked a little dirt off Maura's shoulder, careful to keep her voice casual. "I know _you _can take care of yourself when it comes down to it, Maura, but Jo's just a little defenseless thing with a lot of fight in her. It might help her to have someone on her side with a bite to match her bark."

"You always _were _sad that Jo never grew much, weren't you?"

"A little," Jane shrugged. "But then, I just never thought of dogs as something that should be so small. They're supposed to be big. But don't make no mistake; I love Jo just the way she is." Standing behind Maura, Jane put her hands gently on the doctor's waist and spoke into her ear: "I like you just the way you are, too, Maura.

Maura's voice was a whisper: "What does that mean?"

"It means…" Jane tightened her grip ever so slightly, and ascertaining that they were in fact alone, brushed her lips briefly against Maura's neck. "I like you safe and in one piece."

"Jane," Maura sighed. "You don't need to get me a _guard dog_."

"Please think about this, Maura," Jane said in the same quiet, patient voice. "This ain't about pride, it's about piece of mind."

"For you."

"For both of us. Thinka how you didn't like dogs so much when ya moved here—but then ya knew Jo since she's been a puppy, and that dog just adores you. I know the feeling's mutual, Maura. It could be the same with one of these puppies, too, only when he grows up… he can keep an eye on you when I'm not there. Now I _know _what you're capable of," she said, raising her a voice a little as Maura tried to protest. "But you asked me if there was still more I could teach ya, like how to take on an unexpected attack. I told ya that's something you just learn from experience, and there weren't nothin' like any tricks I could give ya. But bein' alert at the drop of a hat—that's the job of a dog like this. It's bred into 'em."

It took Maura a while to decide how to reply. If she was totally honest with herself, she had gotten a little anxious when she was alone in the house at night. Not to the point where she slept with a gun under her pillow, but it made her a little uncomfortable all the same. Taking into account the fact that she had now been kidnapped the last time Jane had left her alone at night, it could be even harder to let her leave now.

"Please," Jane whispered. "It was almost hard for me to concentrate on my work when I was gone a week to Powell, Maura. If ya think you could handle it, I'd really appreciate you lettin' us take in another dog."

This was not about making an issue of Maura's inability wield a gun quickly or entirely efficiently; it was about the fact that Jane wanted to explore every avenue when it came to providing the best protection for Maura that she could get.

"All right," she finally said, and Jane squeezed her around the waist once before stepping back. "I suppose you already have one picked out?"

"Well, I kinda liked the one on the end, there."

"Of course you do," Maura sighed. "The one who looks as though he's been rolling around in magnum powder?"

"Hey, there's a good name for him!" Jane laughed.

"What, magnum powder?"

"No, just Magnum."

"How about letting me pick his name, since you're the one foisting him upon me?"

"Fair deal," Jane chuckled. "We should wait a little while, though, until he's old enough to leave his mother."

Once Jane drove them back to the Judge's part of town, they separated to go back to their various tasks. Maura was grateful for the chance to have slightly more routine work to concentrate on, and it provided a helpful distraction from the gruesome sight she had seen in the Judge's room earlier that morning. Meanwhile, Frankie looked on in mostly silent awe as he watched Jane and Korsak interview various neighbors, skillfully skirting around giving anything away. Still, it wasn't until about an hour and a half later, when they had all re-gathered at the Judge's house to discuss what they'd learned.

"Didn't bother making many friends," Korsak said.

"He hadn't been in town too long," Jane reasoned. "Although Mr. Smith _did _say the Judge had come out here in hopes of gettin' a wife. He didn't have nobody to write home to, he didn't bring nobody with him, and he didn't even hardly leave his house while he was here," Jane said, ticking them off her fingers.

"Never got any letters, either," Korsak added.

"We know he's been into town, so maybe who killed him don't live on this street," Jane reasoned.

"But could he have already made an enemy here?" Frankie asked. "He's only been in town for what, three or four weeks?"

"Less than a month, but that don't mean he ain't got enemies," Jane said, rolling her eyes at Frankie's naïveté. "He's already had to rule on a couple of cases—Lyle Rawlings' still in jail on account of him, and Clyde Brown had to pay up about a quarter of his business."

Thinking he had caught up at last, Frankie said, "If they'd know they'd be likely suspects in his murder, wouldn't they think their ruse was up if we happened to question them about the Judge's alleged suicide?"

Months of listening to Maura's convoluted way of speaking helped Jane quickly get to Frankie's point. "That's where the trick is," she said. "You don't ask 'em. You bring it up casual-like in their general vicinity. And if I recall correctly, Brown spends a helluva lotta time down at Angela's tavern. I could drop by there with Maura and bring it up there."

"Well why don't you take me with you?" Frankie asked. "Maura's not supposed to be involved so far as anyone knows."

"Exactly," Jane said with a hint of superiority. "Maura's gonna keep an eye on Brown for his reaction. Now say he looked up and saw another deputy watching him. _That_ might tip him off, wouldn't it?"

"Could," Frankie mumbled.

And that was how, not an hour later, Jane had reconvened with Maura and explained the plan en route to Angela's tavern.

"But Jane," Maura whispered, keeping her voice low in case they were overheard. "Even if Mr. Brown is moved to speak, how will you know whether you can keep him at his word?"

"Well, Maura, it's hard to say," Jane sighed. "Sometimes I think Korsak would like to live in a world where everyone was like you, and they couldn't tell lies. He likes to believe in people's honor and their word. As for me, personally, I've been around enough liars to know when a body's bein' dishonest."

Jane's choice of words got Maura to consider something. "I think that was why I used to feel better diagnosing cause of death than I did anything else medical," she said. "A dead body doesn't tell lies. It can be manipulated to sell a story, such as the Judge's, but when you look closely enough, it is incapable of anything but brutal honesty."

"You know what else don't lie?" Jane asked.

"A dog?"

With an affectionate laugh, Jane put one arm around Maura and gave her a squeeze. "_Now_ you're learnin', doctor."

When they walked inside the tavern, Jane noticed three things right away: one of their suspects was sitting at the bar, Tommy was a few stools away from him, and Angela was nowhere to be seen. As could have been expected, Tommy leapt to his feet when he saw Maura walking over, greeting her with a loud hello and a wave. Noticing the table that Maura appeared prepared to sit at, Tommy reached to pull out one of the chairs for her, but Jane beat him to the punch. Although he'd barely gotten as far as touching the back of a chair, Maura had guessed what he'd been about to do, and to save Jane's pride, had given her a pointed look before glancing at a chair closer to them.

"Guy at the end of the bar," Jane muttered through her teeth, low enough so only Maura could hear her. "Blue shirt. Clyde Brown." She then raised her voice, addressing her brother as she threw herself down into the chair next to Maura. "Hey, is Ma around?"

"Went to go talk to her barley supplier," Tommy said. He smiled at Maura. "So! How's the day treatin' ya so far?"

Jane answered before Maura could even open her mouth: "A sight better than mine, I'd wager. Korsak and I had a pretty rough start to the day—a suicide."

As she had been instructed, Maura darted her gaze over to Clyde to look for a reaction. Though he had looked over at Jane and Maura when they'd first walked in, he had yet to do so again. Nothing in his features betrayed anything at the mention of the word suicide. It did, however, elicit quite a reaction from Tommy.

"Jane!" he hissed. "Don't bring up things like that in front of a lady! Mind your manners!"

"Who're you, Ma?" Jane scoffed.

"No," Tommy huffed, sitting straight. "It's just that it ain't appropriate conversation."

"Hey, I was just talkin' about my day!"

Tommy turned to Maura. "Does she always talk this way in front of you?"

"Usually it's worse," Maura said back, grinning at Jane.

Jane rolled her eyes, barely suppressing a smile. "Anyhow, don'tcha wanna know who it is? That new judge."

"Wilkins?" Apparently, his surprise took over feeling affronted on Maura's behalf. For her part, Maura once again glanced at their suspect, who had turned slightly at the sound of the Judge's name. "Boy, I heard that guy was a piece of work."

"From who?"

"From… I dunno, just around."

Clyde Brown turned fully on his stool. "He heard it from people like me," he said, and Jane caught his gaze. "Wilkins was uptight and unfair, and I'm not the only one who thinks so." He folded his arms thoughtfully. "Huh. Y'know, I'd never have figured a man like that to be coward enough to take his own life."

"It's a shame, isn't it?" Jane sighed. "I suppose we'll need to go about findin' a replacement for him."

"I suppose the late Judge's rulings will still be upheld?" Brown asked, trying to sound casual.

"Of course they will," Jane said incredulously. Brown sighed and turned back around, mumbling something about rotten luck. When it looked as though his contribution to the conversation was finished, Jane wanted instantly to ask Maura for her opinion, but leaving so quickly might have made the ruse seem a bit too obvious. In order to prolong their stay just a tad, Jane figured she'd try to get something out of Tommy to soothe Frankie's mind a bit. "So, Tommy. I feel like it's been a while since we've seen ya."

"Well, it… it's been a while since we all really talked, I guess."

"Whatcha been up to these days? Still paintin' houses?"

Tommy looked down at the table and leaned back in his chair a bit. "Oh, a few," he said lightly.

Jane nodded. "You still seein' that girl you was with a couple months ago? What was her name, Bonnie?"

"Yeah, Bonnie, but no we ain't still seein' each other. We stopped a while ago, Jane, I thought you knew that!"

"Ah, too bad. Any other girls catch your eye?"

"Well…" He forced himself not to look at Maura, but he was still clearly apprehensive. "No, not really. Thought I'd take a break from women for a while, and really start workin' on my career."

Jane clapped him on the back. "Good man. Anyhow—if you could tell Angela we stopped by, we'd really appreciate it."

"You ain't leavin' already, are you?" Tommy asked, even as Jane and Maura stood up.

"Sure," Jane said. "We're a bit busy today, but it was nice talkin' to ya. Let's do it again some time!"

Once they were safely outside, Maura glanced over her shoulder and said, "Poor Tommy."

"What?"

"I don't think he has many friends. He and Frankie were close, but ever since Frankie became deputized, they've grown apart somewhat."

"Don't kid yourself, Maura, Tommy was always a troublemaker."

"After observing a number of patients who've had run-ins with the law, I began a theory," Maura said as they started walking back towards the Sheriff's office. "Birth order can have a significant affect on behavior. The oldest child is typically highly motivated, like you, while the youngest—"

"Gets drunk, steals other people's horses, and runs over priests?"

Maura gave her a somewhat withering stare. "I was going to say, they tend to be coddled," which was a fair assessment of how Angela treated Tommy. "They pick interests diametrically opposing those of their siblings. They tend to be risk-takers."

"You don't think I'm a risk-taker?"

"Well in your case, there was always at least a reason behind taking those risks. Tommy could be acting out merely because he feels he has no other way to assert himself or he wants to break free of what you have called Angela's restrictive hold on him."

"Please," Jane snorted. "He likes having her do everything for him."

"Don't underestimate your brothers, Jane."

"I don't. It's obvious he's seeing some girl."

"You think so?"

"It seemed that way. Either he's seeing one, or he figured I wouldn't wanna hear it if he said he was head-over-heels for you. I'd keep an eye out either way, Maura. He may try somethin' with ya when I'm not around. In which case I'll require you to let Magnum get at him."

"Jane, we hadn't agreed on that name yet. And furthermore, I've thought of a counter-offer."

"What?" Jane groaned.

"Just a compromise. The next time Sheriff Korsak sees his animal dealer, I want him to put in a request for another tortoise."

"Maura, why? We've already got _one!_"

"I know, but you said yourself you wanted Jo to have another companion. I just want one for Bass! He gets lonely."

"Tortoises get lonely?"

"You think dogs do!"

"All right, all right, I'll ask Korsak about it," Jane grumbled as they entered the man's office yet again.

"About what?" asked Korsak, who was sitting at his desk. Frankie was standing nearby, looking pensive.

"Nothin'," Jane muttered. "We just saw Clyde Brown at the tavern."

"And?"

Jane turned to Maura, who took the floor. "He did not seem terribly devastated at the news of Judge Wilkins' death, which is understandable considering the substantial financial loss Mr. Brown suffered as a result of the Judge's ruling. But then, he also didn't seem inordinately glad to hear the news, either. It was however made clear to us that Clyde didn't think very highly of the man."

"Wasn't him," Korsak said.

Frankie scowled. "How can you be so sure? You weren't even there!"

"Clyde Brown's the type of man who wants someone to know when he's responsible for something," Korsak said. "Even if it was something like murder. I'm not sayin' he'd go around telling everyone what he'd done, but he'd sure take the opportunity to milk the attention if he thought he'd fooled you into believing Wilkins killed himself. If he didn't seem shifty, he ain't guilty. Clyde Brown's not subtle enough for that."

"Got it," Jane said, folding her arms. "So, who else were we lookin' at? Lyle Rawlings?"

"Yes, but he was locked up all last night," Korsak said. "I know, I was here. I'm gonna send a letter to whoever employed him back in Wyoming, and see what kind of information I can get about him there. Until I get an answer back, I'm afraid we don't have much to go on. But I don't wanna take any chances—Frankie, pick up some more bullets and get back to the Judge's block. You guard that street like it's your job."

"It _is _my job."

"Exactly. Now go to it!"

Frankie hurriedly got his things together, and brushed past Jane, who deliberated for a moment before rushing after him. "Hey, Frankie."

"Yeah?"

"We saw Tommy at the tavern, too. I was kinda thinkin' maybe I should trail him the next time he goes outta town."

"Why, you think he's really in trouble?"

"I dunno. He was bein' real evasive about somethin', and I don't like the feelin' I got. I don't like bein' lied to, especially by family. I ain't so sure if what he's doing is just a moral or a legal wrong, but I smell a rat and I wanna find out what it is."

Frankie looked a little nervous, needlessly straightening his bolo tie. "If you think that's smart. Y'know, Jane, I wouldn't let him get to you."

"About what?"

"Well, he doesn't seem to think it's quite right that our sister's a deputy. He doesn't think it's a suitable job for a woman."

"He does, huh?" Jane asked. "What'd you say to that?"

"I told him it was a woman's job so long as a woman was doing it," Frankie proudly replied.

Jane smiled at him, just as Maura appeared in the doorway behind her. "You're a trump, Frankie," she laughed, shaking his hand. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he said heartily. "Just to be clear, though—you don't, um… well, I dunno."

"What?"

"You don't still wish you were a man, do you?"

"Nah, Frankie, come on," she scoffed, cuffing him on the shoulder. "I was a kid when I said stuff like that. Bless my soul, I've come to terms with bein' a female." She lowered her voice and winked at him. "Maybe just not always on the inside."

"You're more of a man than half the men I know," Frankie chuckled.

"Yeah, well, I get that a lot," Jane said with a shrug. "Now you heard the boss, Frankie. Off to Wilkins!"

Frankie saluted her and jumped onto his horse, galloping off with the energy of one about to join a cavalry charge. Jane just smiled after him until she felt Maura come up beside her. "The Sheriff said you could borrow his carriage to take me home," Maura told her.

"Oh, sure. It'd be my pleasure," Jane said, walking to the other side of the building and giving Maura a hand up into the carriage. "You, uh… you hear any of that exchange between me and Frankie?"

"Yes. And if it makes you feel any better, I am profoundly grateful for your more womanly attributes," Maura said. "Particularly the physical ones."

"Aw, don't worry about it," Jane said, her voice low but confident-sounding. "It's just that when I was a kid, I used to go around saying how jealous I was of Frankie and Tommy 'cause they were boys and I wasn't. They'd grow up to be men and I wouldn't, and that made me mad. I didn't wanna just grow up to be some old lady who put her hair up and crocheted and put on rouge."

_Ooh, rouge would look so good on her. _"But then you went around pretending to be a man for so many years."

"Well yeah, but not 'cause I wanted to _be_ one," Jane said, as if this were obvious. "I figured I had to disguise myself as one if I really wanted to let myself into the world where Hoyt was hidin'. It took me a while, Maura, but I finally figured it out. I finally figured I should just do what I wanted and hang the rest and what people thought of me. I ain't strictly been Jake all these years, Maura. I've been myself, just livin' in other places."

"You've never wished you were really a man?"

There were two responses Jane could think of to answer this question, one more serious than the other. Deciding she wanted to keep the atmosphere light, she explained, "I saw a man piss his name in the snow once when I was eighteen." She laughed when Maura made some sort of sound which indicated jubilant disgust, giving Jane's shoulder a rough shove. "I thought that'd be somethin' fun."

"You _watched _him?" Maura asked, once she could breathe again.

"I saw it after the fact," Jane chuckled, deciding not to explain it had been Frost who'd been showing off. "Other than that, I never really cared enough until…" She trailed off at first, but could tell Maura was looking at her expectantly. "Do you really not remember?" she asked quietly. "I told ya after I kissed you that I wished I was a man just so you could be mine in the name of the law, and in the eyes of everybody around here. And it don't bother me _so _much anymore," she said quickly, "because I know you don't love me no less for not… for not bein' a man, but…" She sighed, dropping the reins to just one hand as she ran the other distractedly through her hair. "Sometimes now, when I'm making love to ya, I wish I could hold you with both hands and be inside you at the same time. If I were a man, I could do that."

Maura had to admit that this same thought had occurred to her—the desire to be inside and be held, or holding, simultaneously. She could only imagine what a wonderful feeling that must be, and wondered how many couples took that power for granted.

"Jane," she said softly, so quietly that her voice was almost lost beneath the sound of the horse's hooves and the carriage wheels beneath them. She reached for one of Jane's hands, tugging off the glove and letting it rest in her lap. "I hope you know how completely you satisfy me."

"I know," Jane said, her voice more hoarse than usual. "I know it, Maura."

As they had been going at a fairly fast pace, they reached the house only a minute or so later. Maura had expected Jane to just drop her off and then go back into town, but to her surprise, Jane was following her into the house.

"Did you need something?" Maura asked curiously, going inside.

"Yeah," Jane said, kicking the door shut behind her.

Without warning, she pulled Maura into hard kiss, made all the rougher when Jane walked her backwards into the nearest wall. "Up," she growled, her voice nearly indiscernible from the loud breathing already being exchanged between them. "_Up_," she said again, and this time the intent behind the word reached Maura. She allowed Jane's hands the room to rest beneath her backside, lifting her up slightly and slammingher harder against the wall. Maura's pained moan was swallowed quickly by another kiss, and her head began to pound in rhythm with her heart and elsewhere. The width of her brown skirt allowed her (albeit somewhat awkwardly) to wrap her legs around Jane's waist, and Jane was thus able to hold her up a bit higher.

And then Jane pulled one hand away, which had been helping to keep Maura above her. Maura slipped a little, and Jane quickly brought the hand back, dipping to recapture Maura's lips in a kiss, desperate not to lose momentum. After a few moments had passed, she tried again to slip a hand lower, to get under Maura's skirt, and Maura quickly tried readjusting herself to hold on in such a position that Jane could do this. She knew Jane possessed the upper body strength to hold her like this and still do what she wanted, but the maneuvering of it was new territory for them and Jane growled in frustration, bringing her hand reluctantly back up to keep Maura in place.

Rather than try to save face a second time, Jane sighed heavily and pushed herself flush against Maura, keeping her pressed to the wall. Maura tried to lean forward as Jane rested her chin on her shoulder, not sure if she was the one who was supposed to try restarting the action. That question was answered when Jane thrust her hips hard, again and again, into Maura's. Maura felt a sudden onset of tears as her arms wrapped more fully and more tightly around Jane's tensely shifting shoulders. Jane bent her knees slightly and rammed upwards, and although Maura cried out, there was still something so obviously missing.

Jane gave up, yanking Maura away from the wall and bringing them both down to the floor. Hovering over the doctor gave Maura the first clear look at Jane's face since they'd gotten inside, and the tormented frustration there was what finally got her to cry.

"Don't punish yourself for this," she said thickly, reaching a hand up to caress Jane's face. "The parts your body does and does not have are _not _your fault, and I don't fault you for them, Jane. Please, don't—please. You've given me everything I need."

Jane shuddered and turned her head slightly to kiss the palm of Maura's hand, then took it at the wrist and leaned down for a real kiss. "I know," she said, her voice slightly muffled before she pulled away. "It ain't about you, Maura. All those times I used to think how much easier it'd make my life if I was a man—I didn't never think of stuff like this."

"Then don't," Maura said breathlessly. "Don't think about it."

"Then take off your damn white gloves and touch me," Jane practically whimpered. "_Please_."

"Well, since you asked politely," Maura said, trying to do anything she thought might bring a smile to Jane's face. The weak joke worked, and Jane was able to smile a little in spite of her trembling.

But before much else could happen, a loud and anxious knock sounded at the door. "Damn it to hell!" Jane grunted. She raised her voice. "Go away!"

"Jane Rizzoli, you open this door right now!"

It was Korsak.

"Please, can this wait?" Jane asked, sounding pained.

"No it cannot wait!"

The sound of him rattling the doorknob was the only thing which could have gotten Jane off Maura at that moment, and she moved fairly quickly. If Korsak hadn't been so distracted by something else, he likely would have realized exactly what the dark blush in both women's faces and their deep breathing was a result of. As it was, he sternly marched towards Jane.

"You be straight with me, Rizzoli. When's the last time you left town, besides Boston?"

"What? I ain't been no where except with you!"

"And when I was asleep, did you ever go out some place?"

"_What?_ No, Korsak, honest! I didn't ever leave your side—what's this about?"

"That time a few days ago when you ran off, and Maura and Frankie and I looked for you, and you came back drunk as a dog—where'd you go?"

"I rode around," Jane said roughly, pushing Korsak's hand out of her face. "The hell's the matter with you, Korsak?"

"I've just been told that Jake Wyatt held up the only bank in Mesa, Arizona."

* * *

**A/N**: That took a while to write, but it was fun! Well, except for the angsty-ness. Reviews are much appreciated, though! :)


	25. Hero Worship

**A/N**: So the ending scene to this chapter was one I've been meaning to write ever since the first CJ, but I think it fits a lot better here than it would have in the first one. Anyway, please let me know what you think! :)

* * *

After Jane had let out a steady stream of every cuss word she knew, hands balled into fists and just barely refraining from kicking over a nearby chair, she turned to Maura and said, "You better get the hell outta here if you don't wanna hear more talk like that."

"Are you saying nothing like this has ever happened before?" Maura asked innocently, although she wished she hadn't brought it up when Korsak and Jane shot her nearly identical incredulous looks. Rather than rescind the question, she tried quickly to salvage the notion: "Well, why _wouldn't _some rogue out here try impersonating Jake, if he thought he could get away with it? I would think it would be every scalawag's dream to have so much attention."

"Maura, Jake's picture is plastered all over the West," Jane said shortly. "So first off, anyone impersonating him would have to look a helluva lot like me. And furthermore, this ain't somethin' somebody would just do on a lark. There's a price on my head. You suit up as Jake, you don't assume you're gonna come home alive."

Not wanting Maura to feel bad, Korsak tried playing the devil's advocate. "Now, it's possible that maybe over the years, some daredevil cad now and then has tried to pass himself off as Jake. But if he did, it wasn't ever so close that we heard about it."

"This is it," Jane said fiercely to the Sheriff. "This is goddam_ it_, Korsak—this is why Jake's gotta go. He's got to die beyond a shadow of a doubt."

"What, you don't like people tarnishing the fine name of Jake Wyatt?" Korsak asked sarcastically.

"I didn't ever rob a _bank_, old man!" Jane nearly shouted, her voice rising.

"You robbed the rich, didn't ya?"

"It ain't the same thing! What we took from people like that was only _trinkets_ for them, and we gave 'em to people what really needed it. Damn it, I need Frost, that son of a—"

Korsak reached over, gripping Jane's shoulder tightly. "Jane, calm down."

"You thought it was me," Jane said, her voice trembling. "You thought I did it." When Korsak didn't respond, only pressing his lips together, he felt Jane's body quivering as well as her voice. "I want the bastard dead, Korsak. I want him _dead_, and I don't want nobody usin' his name anymore."

"We'll find whoever's doing this, Jane, don't worry," Korsak soothed her.

"Don't talk down to me like that; you don't know nothin'," Jane said.

"Sheriff, I think you'd better go," Maura said quietly but insistently, taking Jane's arm. Korsak looked at her, surprised. "I'll see she gets back to you soon, I promise."

"Hurry," Korsak muttered. "I'm gonna head up to Green Forge and see if they could spare Grant. With the Judge's murder and Jake Wyatt on my tab, and Frost still out of town, we're gonna need all the help we can get."

It was a sign of the seriousness of the situation that Jane did not protest loudly at the sound of Grant's name. She didn't even acknowledge it all, which Korsak had to admit to himself was somewhat worrisome. Giving her shoulder one more pat, he turned and was out the door. As soon as it had closed behind him, Maura pulled Jane into a tight embrace.

"Don't do anything rash," she whispered.

"I won't," Jane promised, her voice weak.

Maura's grip strengthened. "This could be some kid just trying to get a little notoriety, or it could be a trap to lure out the real Jake."

The second possibility had not even occurred to Jane, but it sounded scarily plausible coming from Maura's lips. "I'd be playing right into their hands," Jane said.

"Exactly."

"But until we know for sure, it could be someone out to make my name a lot worse than it ever actually was."

"What's your gut tell you?"

Jane managed a weak smile, still clutching Maura tightly to her. "I thought you said I shouldn't listen to my intestines."

"Well, I've reconciled myself to the notion that some things may work for you which do not for me."

The smile on Jane's face faded as she pulled back, looking into Maura's eyes. "My gut is tellin' me that Tommy may have somethin' to do with this."

"Impossible," Maura balked.

"Why?"

"Because whoever posed at Jake would have to, as you said, pass for him. Tommy may be your brother, but your features are too dissimilar for him to ever convincingly play Jake. His zygomatic structure is noticeably wider than yours," and if Maura hadn't been cupping Jane's jaw and staring at her cheeks, Jane wouldn't have even been able to even guess what the doctor was talking about. Still, Maura clarified, "His cheekbones are far from being as defined as yours, and there are also distinctive nasal—"

"Dammit, Maura, people might not notice differences like that," Jane said, shifting her head to get it out of Maura's loose grip. "They'd notice—"

"The facial hair?" Maura asked. "Which, in case you haven't noticed, Tommy does not possess. He may not be the most clean-shaven of men, but—"

"We don't know when this robbery happened," Jane pointed out. "He coulda had the right facial hair. Hell, he coulda done like us and even put on some fake ones just to save time."

"Why are you so determined to believe it's him?" Maura asked heavily.

"A while ago Frankie said Tommy looked up to guys like Jake Wyatt," Jane said. "Tommy told me himself he didn't think Jake was such a bad guy. And you said, too—you said the youngest siblings were the risk-takers! Maybe Tommy thinks he's on a lark, maybe he's restless. I dunno."

"Stop assuming it's him, and tell me what you're really afraid of, Jane."

"Nothing! Maura, I swear to God, I just—"

"I don't understand you," Maura said. "You're always this way, you're always so eager to persecute someone before you've even found out whether they're guilty or not."

Jane laughed hoarsely. "Honey, in my line of work, you gotta keep one eye over shoulder every minute of every day. If you don't cover your own ass, nobody will. You get a gut feelin', you follow it. You asked me what mine was, and that was it."

"Then what's your gut feeling about Judge Wilkins? You think Tommy killed him, too?" Maura asked dryly.

"No," Jane said. "My gut feelin' there is that whoever killed him lit outta town already. But that ain't my call to make—it's Korsak's."

Silence loomed between them for several long moments, with Jane in particular wondering where the conversation was supposed to go from here. A good foot or two separated them now, and Maura nervously twisted her ring, staring at the floor. Lately Jane's emotions had been getting more and more spastic, seeming to flip on a whim, hot or cold, but whichever direction, always intensely. Maura was aware that there were extenuating circumstances, that Jane was facing a wealth of stressful situations, and yet… she had never allowed this range of intensity to show in front of Maura before. No matter what hardships she had been suffering in the past, Jane had always been able to mask it for Maura. She had always managed to put on a brave face, even a smile, rarely (and never, when sober) forcing Maura to confront the darkness which, on occasion, utterly consumed her.

_Is it because she's grown accustomed to me?_ Maura wondered. _Before, in that would-be courting phase, was she particularly sensitive to making sure I only saw the good side, that the darkness remained hidden? Am I only good for her when the going is easy, when I feel sure of everything? _

_ Of course not. How can she trust me to be her spouse if I'm not able to take the history that comes with her? It was easy enough to be supportive when I thought the past was past, when I only had to be a sympathetic listener, not actively involved in preventing or helping with the pain. But love, a marriage, is not supposed to be easy all the time. It's like Jane said—life, or love, is worth the scary parts. _

Maura had been quiet for so long, that Jane tried to guess what was bothering her. "Maura, maybe I shouldn't have brought ya to the Judge's house this morning," she said.

This jarred Maura out of her reverie. "Why not?"

"Because," Jane said with a shrug. "Did it disturb ya? Is that what's bothering ya right now?"

While it hadn't been on Maura's mind this very moment, she took the opportunity to divert her thoughts. "At the time, it wasn't so awful. I merely forced myself to pretend that the Judge's body was on one of my father's operating tables. But after…" She sighed wistfully, returning her gaze to a worn spot on the floor. "I thought of my other father—my real father."

"Doyle?"

"Yes. I thought of his reputation, the clever killer. I could honestly believe that he would try to stage a murder as a suicide. I imagined him killing someone in cold blood, then just walking away and leaving all that behind… leaving the corpse, the blood, all of it, to be found—either by the authorities, or by some poor civilian, maybe a family member."

Jane stepped forward, this time being the one to offer a consoling hug. She rubbed Maura's back slowly, soothingly. "I'm real sorry, Maura."

"I just can't believe I share blood with a man who could do things like that," Maura said, her voice high-pitched and strained as it always was when she got emotional.

Having killed men herself before, Jane struggled initially to know how to comfort Maura. But then she put it in the perspective of finding out she was related to someone like Charles Hoyt, and what a horrible revelation that would be. It wouldn't matter if he hadn't actually raised her himself; just knowing he had fathered her would be bad enough, and would haunt her for the rest of her days.

"Maura, I wish I knew what to say," she murmured.

"You don't have to say anything," Maura said, pulling out of the embrace so she could wipe at her eyes. "I'm being foolish."

"You ain't bein' no such thing," Jane told her.

"Childish, then."

"No. You ain't."

"Aren't," Maura corrected softly.

"And here I thought you'd given up on my grammar long ago," Jane chuckled.

"I still correct you in my head when I don't say anything out loud."

"Figures. You know how much I hate being corrected."

"I certainly do," Maura said with a weak laugh. Once she had sobered up, she allowed herself to look into Jane's eyes, trying to read what was really there, whether it was worth trying to take the conversation back where she wanted to. "Jane…"

"Yeah?"

"When you've—when you've, uh… killed men…"

Jane inhaled deeply, and Maura knew she didn't need to articulate the actual question. "Self-defense," Jane muttered. "And never nothin' else. I might've injured a few, but that was only to get 'em out of my way, or to try and make a point."

"What point was that?"

"If Jake Wyatt wants you dead…" Jane laughed mirthlessly, and mimed shooting Maura in the heart. "You'd be dead." She felt needlessly defensive upon seeing the disapproving look on Maura's face. "You know why I had to do it," she said. "Why I had to have that reputation. It wasn't easy, Maura. Not at all. And know that no matter who was on the receiving end of my bullet or my knife, I wasn't ever happy to kill. Not ever."

"I never thought you were the type who'd enjoy it, Jane."

With a derisive snort, Jane folded her arms and said, "Y'know what happened the first time I killed someone? I pissed myself. I was nineteen and I… well, I'd been in rough spots before, but never like this. It was me or him, and I'd barely been able to dodge his first bullet. So I shot one at him, but I was jumpy; all nerves. You ever stepped on a bug, and not been able to kill it all the way? You move away your shoe and see it on the ground there, half-squashed and still strugglin', and you're sorry you didn't manage to kill it straight off… well, that's what happened with this man here. I got him so he wasn't quite dead. I didn't know what I was supposed to do, if I was supposed to just run off or get him to a doctor."

"What happened?" Maura asked breathlessly.

"I walked closer, 'cause he was just kinda lyin' there in pain and all. But as soon as I got close enough, he fired up at me and I took one to the shoulder," Jane said, brushing the spot on instinct. "So I took another shot, and this time I didn't miss. This time …I didn't have to really check to see if he was dead, 'cause I knew. Even so, I rolled over his body to make sure, and it felt like the heaviest thing I'd even encountered. He wasn't even that big a man; it was just that death felt _heavy _somehow."

Her tone was detached yet thoughtful, and Maura tried not to visualize the scenario too precisely. She felt her heartbeat increase when Jane's eyes met hers again.

"I don't think people realize what all it takes," she said gruffly. "Takin' a man's life, I mean. It ain't easy, Maura. And it sure as hell ain't so glamorous."

Maura nodded solemnly, and there was quietness again for a moment. "You're not going to be able to rest until you find out who's behind this, are you?"

"Jake's impersonator?"

"Right."

"Right… yeah. Yeah, Maura. I gotta end this now."

"What did you mean before?" Maura asked. "When you were talking to Korsak about killing Jake Wyatt. It sounded like you had some sort of a plan."

Jane waved her hand dismissively. "We'd just talked earlier, that's all. Frost needs some money, and we—I—thought it could be smart to say we'd killed Jake Wyatt, and get the reward money from some town."

"But you'd have to prove it," Maura said, sounding puzzled. "Otherwise, wouldn't people go to Sheriffs all the time, claiming they'd killed some notorious character?"

Jane looked at her a moment before deciding to lie. Both of them were already upset, and had just been on the verge of winding down—why not let Maura think she'd made a point? "Right, I know," Jane muttered. "It wasn't really a solid plan, just an idea. A thought. It'd be real damn hard to pull off." She cleared her throat before she could betray how much she'd really thought about it, and took a step towards the door. "Anyway …I should probably go back to the office and see what all I can do while Korsak's at Green Forge."

"Oh, right. He'll be gone a short while then, won't he?"

"I reckon so. And Frankie's got the far end of town staked out, so… I guess maybe I could write back to Frost and ask if he could high-tail it on back here."

"Wait," Maura said, following Jane to the door. Jane had her hand on the knob, but turned curiously at the tone in Maura's voice. Her eyebrows rose slightly when Maura, holding her gaze, deftly undid the buttons of Jane's corduroy trousers. "I just wanted you to think," she murmured, as Jane's breath caught. "If you really _were _built like Jake, then _I _wouldn't have the chance to be inside you. Not like this. I know it might not be perfect, but…"

"No," Jane gasped, unconsciously rolling her hips forward. Her eyes were screwed shut as she slumped fully against the wall, Maura holding her up. She lifted her arms so they could rest tiredly over Maura's shoulders, and her head nodded forward, resting by Maura's neck. Suddenly she felt winded, and it took every fiber of energy left within her to whisper, "You're perfect."

* * *

Jane and Korsak spent the majority of the day speculating about who might really be masquerading as Jake Wyatt. The strange thing was that in the past, as recently as even a year ago, Jane probably would have found it amusing to know someone out there was impersonating her. Imitation was, after all, the sincerest form of flattery—the only troubling thing being that nobody understood her outlaw nature was nothing but an incredible cover-up. While her most important work was done behind the scenes, it was still sort of nice to know that she commanded respect.

But now, the thought of a person pretending to be her alter ego filled her with a heavy sense of dread. In the old days, she had never paused to entertain the notion that anyone could possibly draw a connection between Jake Wyatt and Jane Rizzoli; that anyone who wanted vengeance on Jake would ever know to try and take it out on Jane or someone in her town or family. But now, she was nearly petrified at the thought. Even though she knew on some level that she was allowing her imagination to take ridiculous leaps, she couldn't help allowing them: what if this impersonator upset the wrong person, and somehow the wronged man figured out a bond between Jake and Maura, and went after her? What if there were serious repercussions due to the recklessness of this outsider?

It didn't matter how implausible it was that anything like that could happen, but Jane couldn't drop it. She would swallow her own pride, she would admit she was wrong before she would ever sit back and allow even the slightest possibility that Maura could be endangered.

"I am telling you, Korsak," she said gruffly, back in his office. "Jake's gotta get gone. I'm gonna write Frost and tell him to get back here as soon as he can—not just so we can talk, but so you can have some backup here while we wait to get some information on the Judge."

"Write to him," Korsak said, trying to placate her. "Grant's on his way down, so we don't need Frost if he ain't ready to come home yet. And then, _if _he comes back, we'll talk."

"I need to request one more thing."

"Request, huh? Nice way of putting it. Go ahead, Calamity Jane."

"I wanna follow Tommy tonight."

Korsak took off his glasses and peered up at Jane from behind his desk. She stood confidently enough, hands resting calmly at her hips, but her expression belied a certain nervousness. "You what now?" he asked.

"Frankie reckons Tommy's up to something, and it might be something not so good. And I dunno, I got this feelin' he could maybe be involved in this whole Jake business. And even if he ain't, I just think he could be doin' something shifty. I wanna find out what it is, and so does Frankie. But Frankie ain't so good at stalking, like I am. He'd blunder it up."

With a heavy sigh, Korsak leaned back in his chair and said, "Fine, Jane. You go ahead tonight and let me know if you find out anything."

She stayed in the office a good while longer to work on a letter for Frost, keeping an eye on things while Korsak made his rounds. The Sheriff made it back just as the sun was nearly set, and he watched uneasily as Jane stuffed some extra bullets into her pocket. He wanted to ask if she really thought she'd need them, but he was afraid of what answer he might get. Her face was set, serious and dark, as she glanced at her pocket watch before tossing it casually back into place.

"What are you going to tell Dr. Isles you're doing?" Korsak finally asked.

"Tell her I'm goin' out on a run for ya," Jane muttered.

"You're going to lie to her?"

"No."

"I ain't asked ya to tail your brother, Jane. That one's all on you."

"Then fine, yeah, I'll lie to her."

She jumped when Maura's voice suddenly joined the conversation: "You aren't speaking about _me_, are you?" The doctor had walked inside the office just a moment ago, and was now giving a stony look towards Jane's guilty expression. Her medical bag fell to the floor with a small bang, adding an exclamation point to her presence. "I dropped by after my last appointment to see if you were interested in escorting me home, but I suppose not."

"I got some work to do," Jane said evasively.

When Maura raised her eyebrows expectantly at Korsak, he got quickly to his feet and grabbed his hat. "I'd better go by the cells again," he said, passing Maura and exiting through the swinging double doors.

Before Jane could even open her mouth again, Maura's acidic tone cut through the air between them: "I don't appreciate being lied to, Jane."

"I wasn't gonna lie to ya—"

"Like hell you weren't! What're you going to do, Jane? Go out there and find whoever's had the gall to imitate someone you allegedly disavowed?"

"What, you think this is about my pride?" Jane barked, stepping closer. "That I can't stand the thought of someone else gettin' credit for a job pulled off by Jake Wyatt? I am trying to do the right thing and protect you, protect all of us, by findin' out who's behind this and making sure they stop."

"At what cost, Jane? Why not just let it go?"

"You think this guy'll stop at one bank? We gotta catch him quick and cut him off!"

"There is a fine line between courage and stupidity."

"As a deputy of this town, it's my job to straddle that line every day," Jane said stiffly, squaring her shoulders and facing down Maura. "I ain't gonna even do nothin' that dangerous tonight; just some poking around."

Maura's features softened, as did her voice. "Then let me come with you tonight."

Jane looked genuinely surprised. "What? No. Why? You ain't a deputy, Maura, you're a doctor. You ain't got any business tailing a suspect with me."

"A suspect? Who is it, Tommy?"

"I ain't at liberty to say."

"Well, that's too bad," Maura said, leaning down and swiftly picking up her bag. A scalpel fell out, but she failed to notice. "I could tell you where he usually spends his Friday evenings."

"Where?" Jane asked.

"Why are you interested?" Maura asked, pretending ignorance.

Jane bent down to retrieve the scalpel off the floor, and in an instant of poor taste in an attempt at humor, pointed it threateningly at Maura. "You answer my question, lady."

Maura didn't even hear, let alone process, the words as they left Jane's mouth. Her eyes were fixed on the scalpel being held so close to her neck, and within seconds, Jane realized why Maura appeared so paralyzed. She couldn't keep her gaze from landing briefly at the mostly-faded scars on Maura's neck, the only physical reminder of their run-in with Hoyt, singularly the most terrifying hour of Maura's existence. Jane dropped her hand limply to her side before offering the scalpel silently back to Maura, but Maura's hand didn't move. She was looking at Jane as if the woman had just committed the ultimate betrayal.

"I'm sorry, Maura," Jane said in a gravelly voice, sounding apologetic only in that she was about to unleash more unpleasantness. "But you gotta get over reactions like that if you ever wanna come on the road with me." She took one more step and pressed the scalpel firmly into Maura's hand. "I'll be back before morning, if all goes well, and there ain't no reason it shouldn't. There's a two-barrel pistol under my pillow—use it if you don't feel safe. Just do like I do and sleep with your hand around it."

"I'll be fine," Maura said in a crisp voice. "Don't worry about me. _I _don't worry about _you_, you know."

Jane allowed herself a small smirk. "You don't, huh?"

"Not excessively," Maura amended. "Although you've been known to be reckless in the past, I have to trust that you know what you are doing and that the most likely outcome is that you will, largely, be fine. It's not my wish to control you, Jane, or to lose sleep over your safety. It's only that I… I just hope you're doing whatever it is for the right reason."

"Don't worry," Jane whispered, leaning down for a soft kiss which barely had the time to be returned. "_You _are the right reason."

And yet, Maura was not given a chance to respond to this before Jane was out the door. The town was now nearly shrouded entirely in darkness, and Korsak came back inside to offer Maura a ride home as Jane headed stealthily for the old Rizzoli house. Frankie was on duty watching Judge Wilkins' part of town, and as such, she wound up not having to wait as long for Tommy to try leaving under cover of darkness. Rather than accost him then and there, Jane decided to wait it out and follow him.

He was dressed suspiciously well, wearing his only tailored pair of pants—navy blue in color, matching the blazer he wore over a crisp new white shirt and black vest. His hair was neatly combed, much more nicely than Jane had ever seen it in the daylight, and he had shaved completely as well. Standing on the porch, he glanced up and down the street, failing to notice Jane standing in the shadows of the decrepit house across the way. She thought to herself that it had been a good idea not to hang around the Rizzoli house itself, as Tommy was not walking around behind it, no doubt to grab his horse. This guess was confirmed when he failed to reappear, and when Jane was able to hear the horse's hooves when she strained her ears.

She hurried across the street and watched Tommy take the back road out of town. He was going at a leisurely pace, which allowed Jane the freedom to follow on foot, so long as she was careful to keep a distance. They went all the way across town, and if Jane hadn't been on multiple missions like his already, she would have found her patience and energy waning early. But she was determined to see this out, and was glad she did so when she realized Tommy was heading for her and Maura's house.

But although he glanced at the house as he passed, he did not even slow his horse's gait. It took Jane's heartbeat a moment to recover—even if she'd had no idea what Tommy might or might not have done if he'd stopped so late at night at Jane and Maura's house, Jane couldn't help the nervous feeling which had overcome her.

The road went straight to either Sparrow Lake or Green Forge from here, and after a point, it became clear that the other town was Tommy's destination. He sped up his horse, and rather than continue following him on foot, Jane hurried back to the corral to borrow one of Korsak's horses. She could head him off at Green Forge by taking the long way around the lake, if she ran her horse fast enough. Which she always did.

As an added precaution, Jane put her hair up beneath her hat, making it appear to the casual observer as if she had very shortly-cut hair. This way, if Tommy happened to catch a glance at her, he wouldn't be so likely to place her right away.

What Jane didn't count on was Tommy figuring her for someone else entirely.

Tommy's destination within Green Forge was none other than Stanley's esteemed tavern. The mixed memories of what had gone on here prevented Jane from really wanting to go inside after Tommy, and she chose instead to linger out on the back porch. Nobody else was out there, as it was where all the men (including Tommy) had secured their horses. Jane figured she had a minute or two to decide whether she wanted to risk going inside or not, when she heard loud arguing coming from the other side of the porch. The voices were instantly recognizable as belonging to Stanley and Tommy.

"…I've told you a thousand times—she don't work here no more! Go home, you louse."

"C'mon, Stanley, just tell me where she is!" Tommy pleaded.

"You get her in trouble, kid?"

"I just wanna see her!"

"Yeah? Well so do I! That lousy whore owes me another week's worth of dancing!"

What followed were the sounds of a clear scuffle, and Jane had to assume Stanley had hired some sort of brute force to handle particularly rowdy guests, because Tommy could've laid the older man flat if he'd really wanted to. Instead he received a terse suggestion to cool off, and then there was silence.

There was Jane's mistake, in waiting around. Normally she would have slipped away again, but she was so distracted trying to figure out who exactly Tommy might have been talking about that she didn't hear him walking up until it was too late.

He came to halt several yards away, and Jane only happened to notice him in her peripheral vision after a moment or two. Instinct told her to run, but she held still, curious to see if Tommy was about to call her out. Both of them were frozen, waiting for the other to speak or move first. Jane figured it was a good thing she had years of experience of being caught of guard, when it was all that kept her from falling out of her chair when Tommy whispered,

"Mr. Wyatt?"

Tommy took a step closer, and Jane quickly pulled out her pistol, making sure the moonlight caught and glinted the barrel pointed at her brother. Though she had fumbled initially, she managed to make the move look smooth, almost lazy, and Tommy got the message. He stopped in his tracks. Under the guise of brushing the side of her ear, Jane angled the tip of her hat so it would hide more of her face, though she knew the darkness was doing enough to cover her. This should have been enough for Tommy to turn and go back, but he stayed put, and Jane allowed herself a moment to be impressed with his courage.

"Mr. Wyatt, I'd sure like to talk to ya."

Jane pitched her voice as low as it would go, and her tiredness made it even scratchier than usual. "Funny," she said. "I don't give a hang about talkin' to _you_."

He was undeterred. "You as bad as they say?"

"Worse. Now get outta here."

"I don't believe that."

"What's that, now?"

Tommy was fumbling with his hat in his hands, but he stayed his ground. "You've got your honor, haven't ya? That's why people respect you. You're your own man; you don't give in to nothin'. You looking for a companion?"

Jane hissed and nearly stood up. "Listen son, you go on home."

"But sir—"

"I heard enough. You're one of those guys who likes to make a romance outta my life, and that's fine, I understand how that happens. But there ain't no romance in sleepin' on flea-infested blankets, in goin' days without a decent meal, or fightin' every day for the right to breathe. You don't want all those things, and that's only part of what you'd get for joinin' up with me."

"Yeah, but you—you got money, don't you?"

Intent on finding out where Tommy was going with this, Jane asked, "What's that to ya?"

"Well, sir…if I could be honest with you, real honest…"

He paused for so long that he prompted Jane to ask, "_Yeah?_" with no hint of patience.

"I'm in trouble."

"What kinda trouble?"

Tommy almost didn't care at this point if Jake Wyatt would let him become his assistant; it was incredible enough that such an esteemed man was even bothering to listen. Figuring Jake was used to hanging around people who were truly morally bankrupt, Tommy felt less shame than he might have otherwise in insisting, "I got a girl in a bad way, sir."

Jane had to fight hard from leaping off the chair and slapping her brother upside the head (or worse). She squirmed, knowing she would be far too recognizable to her own flesh and blood if she were to even stand up and walk over to him. "You got a girl pregnant?" she said through her teeth.

"Well…yeah," Tommy said. "I figured…y'know, I figured maybe stuff like that must happen to ya now and then."

"Don't you go around thinkin' you know what I do," Jane said. "If I ever caught wind of a woman carrying my child, I'd settle right down and marry her. You don't mess with responsibility like that, son."

"Well that's just it, sir," Tommy interrupted. "I need money, I need money to support her."

"What's this lucky girl's name?"

"Lydia."

"Lydia. Well, son, you just go on to her and tell her you wanna do right by her. You don't run away, and you sure as hell don't come with me. You come with me, and you might not make it home in one piece. Unless of course, you wanna take the coward's way out and let your child be raised without a father." She snorted and glanced over at him, knowing the cruelty of what she was about to say but hoping it would be enough to shock Tommy into at least shutting up. "Lookit you, all fancied up. You probably don't even understand what it means to go a day without plenty of milkfed attention from your ever-lovin' Ma and Pop—"

"My parents have been dead for years," Tommy said darkly, and the lack of "sir" was noticeable. "And I ain't a coward. Sure didn't think _you_ were, either, but any man who'd up and quit just because—"

"He got a girl in a family way? Son, you better grow up quick. It's too late for me, understand? You're young enough. You find yourself some honest work and you do it, stay true to it. Don't be fooled by stories you hear, son, no matter how glamorous they make me look. I ain't so glamorous, and my life sure as hell ain't, either. I'm sure you've got a helluva lot goin' for ya."

"I have nothing," Tommy said quietly.

Jane's voice softened. "You had a woman close enough to ya that she's now carrying your child. That's something. That's somethin' real big, young man. It's a special gift, y'know, bein' able to do that to a woman. I understand maybe you ain't such a bad kid. You're just thinkin' about right now, and what this Lydia might need right now is money, and you'll do just about anything for it."

"I would," said Tommy fervently. "Anything. Please, Mr. Wyatt, let me—"

"You gotta think about your future, boy," she said, talking over him. "You want your son or daughter to be proud of ya, don'tcha? You wouldn't wanna shame your unborn child by doin' the sorts of things I do just for some sordid coin." She let that sink in, but couldn't bring herself to look too closely at Tommy to see if he was really getting it. "Now you go on home. Which of these horses here is yours?"

She waited to see if Tommy was going to fight to be heard, or call her a coward, but he eventually lifted to point and said, "Black one on the end there."

He jumped when Jane fired a bullet at the peg which held his horse's reins to the porch. The horse was clearly spooked as well, and trotted quickly over to Tommy. With a scowl, he took her reins and stroked her nose to calm her down.

"Incidentally," Jane said, stowing her weapon again. "I'm sittin' in the shadows here, all by myself. How'd you know who I was?"

Tommy took his time answering, waiting until he had climbed up onto his horse. "It was a guess," he finally said. "But it wouldn't have even occurred to me if Stanley hadn't bragged about having had you in his tavern once. He said you'd be coming back tomorrow, and I figured maybe you were early in—"

"He said I'd be here tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"Huh. I don't remember leaving such a message."

"Oh…well, that's what he said. Said it'd been months since the first time you came, and then outta nowhere, you just stopped by again… anyway." Tommy started leading the horse away.

"You're gonna think on what I said, won't ya?" Jane called after him.

As he slunk away without responding, Jane couldn't help feeling this was the first time Jake had really let her down.


	26. Whose Job Is It Anyway

**A/N**: So, there's a bit of angst at the start of this chapter, which may sound redundant to some of you. But really my point in writing it was to be glad that there are options available to lgbt people now (re: biological children) that simply didn't exist back in the day. It's something to be thankful for, even while there are still fights to be fought.

* * *

Jane waited a good five minutes after Tommy left before she even stood up herself. As she waited, she found herself wishing fiercely that she had Jake's stage hair so she could go have a talking-to with Stanley and find out why he was saying Jake Wyatt would be making an appearance tomorrow. Right now her best course of action would probably be to return the next day and carefully approach the tavern (possibly with back-up) to see if her impersonator did indeed show up.

Meanwhile, it was a good thing she'd brought a horse, because she knew her legs would be too weak to support her any further than to her borrowed steed. She mounted the horse and set off at a slow, thoughtful pace, further insuring Tommy would get back to town before her.

Of all the things she could be feeling right now—not only towards Tommy but towards Stanley and whoever was passing as Jake—what washed over Jane after the initial waves of shock was a crashing tide of jealousy. And for that, she felt tremendously guilty, like her priorities were wildly out of order.

Someone was pretending to be her outlaw alter-ego and was allegedly preparing to make an appearance tomorrow in Green Forge. Her baby brother, the eternally young bachelor, was expecting a child out of wedlock. And worse, he had tried teaming up with Jake Wyatt in an attempt to bring in some money, or perhaps evade responsibility. And yet, the only thing which consumed Jane was a raging jealousy over the fact that her broher had so abused his ability to help create life. He had slept with a showgirl. And now he'd like to run off with an outlaw, the irresponsible cad.

The road back to Hollow Creek felt longer than Jane had ever remembered it. When her home finally came into view, she could not even bring herself to take the extra quarter mile to the corral. Her heart was aching, and that translated to extreme exhaustion throughout her body, leaving her with no desire other than to go inside and crash in bed next to Maura. So, she tied Korsak's horse to the rail of the front porch and slipped into the house.

It was completely dark inside, but Jane had come home at this hour enough times that she had the path to the bedroom memorized. The door no longer creaked when she pushed it open slowly, and her heart panged slightly as she saw that Maura had left the curtain open for the moonlight to come in —which she often did when she knew Jane would be home late.

"Maura?" Jane whispered, unbuttoning her trousers and pulling them off. The only response she got was a tired groan, and Jane forwent removing her shirt. She slipped under the covers, and Maura rolled over suddenly to face her, double-barred pistol in hand.

"You've got a lot of nerve coming into my bed at this hour, you rogue," Maura said lazily. "You'd better get out now, or I'll turn you over to my extremely jealous husband." She rested the barrel against Jane's cheek. "And he's not nice like I'm nice."

"You askin' for a truce there, Maura?" Jane whispered. "Because I'll give it to ya."

"Are you apologizing for the way you shut me out this afternoon?"

Jane had once heard a saying: a man who admits he's wrong when he's wrong is upstanding; a man who admits he's wrong when he's right is married. She didn't want to be a pushover, and she still felt somewhat justified in what she had said to Maura earlier. So in lieu of truly answering the question, she gave an evasive grunt.

Maura sighed, placing the gun back under her pillow. "I suppose that's the best I'll get."

She had turned so her back was to Jane, and after a few moments, Jane pushed up against her, curving herself to the doctor's figure. Testing her luck, Jane shifted her leg so that it rested over both of Maura's. This seemed to garner no response, positive or negative, prompting Jane to leave a kiss at the base of Maura's neck.

Maura sighed again and pulled away. "Not tonight, Jane."

Noting the tiredness in Maura's voice, Jane waited before asking, "If I… can I ask you a question, Maura?"

"Well of course you _can_," Maura said, a bit of unnecessary impatience in her tone.

Unseen by Maura, Jane rolled her eyes. "_May_ I ask you a question?"

Maura took a while to truly consider her response before she ultimately replied with a terse "yes."

"How are twins born?"

"…what?"

"Twins. Or—what d'you call the ones what come in threes—trios?"

"Triplets, and they are an exceptionally rare occurrence."

"Right, well…how're they born? Or why? Is it 'cause maybe a woman's pregnant already, but she don't know it yet, and her husband sleeps with her again? Or is it that if the man does a _real_ swell job—"

"The frequency or intensity of intercourse has nothing to do with it," Maura sighed, now definitely sounding impatient. She'd have been content to leave it there if, a moment later, it hadn't occurred to her to inquire, "What on _earth _makes you ask?"

"Nothin'," was the automatic response every time Jane figured Maura had caught her in a splendid display of stupid ignorance. Gently she draped her arm over Maura's, sliding down her hand until their fingers interlocked. She took it as encouragement that Maura had not pulled away. "I was just thinkin'… wondering how many times over I coulda gotten you pregnant if I had the right equipment."

The bald sorrow in Jane's tone melted away most of Maura's lingering bitterness. "I wouldn't like to think of it," she said.

"Makes you too sad?" Jane guessed, squeezing her hand.

"No, not that. It's just I've heard and observed that the act of giving birth and even being pregnant itself is extremely painful. Agonizing, even. If you were to maintain the status quo when it comes to pleasing me on a physical level, and you were male, I'm afraid I would be giving birth approximately every nine months."

Jane laughed weakly, grateful that Maura had taken on the role of jester when Jane had been too glum to play the part herself. "Damn right you would," she chuckled, pushing closer to Maura's body again.

Maura rubbed her thumb across Jane's fingers, wondering if something had happened to make Jane bring this up. Whatever the case, Maura had learned long ago that it was easier to get answers out of Jane by waiting for them rather than prying.

Indeed it was a short wait before Jane admitted into the darkness, "Tommy's got a girl pregnant."

A moment of shocked silence passed before Maura turned over to face Jane. "He _what?_"

"He's gonna be a father," Jane mumbled. Her eyes had adjusted enough to the dark now that she could see the aghast surprise in Maura's face. "Yup. That's how I felt, too."

"Who's the girl?" Maura asked once she had recovered enough to articulate a thought.

"Some showgirl who's workin' at Stanley's tavern."

"How did you find out?"

Jane frowned, knowing if she answered honestly, their topic of conversation would be shifted, which she wasn't quite ready to do yet. She waited long enough to reply that Maura gently reached over to rest a hand on her cheek. Jane sighed and took her wrist.

"You'd think I'd be used to it by now," Jane murmured. "Life bein' unfair. It's hardly ever dealt me a fair hand, but I ain't ever been too bitter about it. It's just—y'know, I could always find a way to make it right, or at least try. But this—I can't make this fair. Tommy didn't do things right like I'd do 'em right. He went and got a girl pregnant that he don't even hardly know, much less married, and he ain't ready to be a father—hell, he don't wanna _be _a father, and that ain't right! He don't give a hang about bein' able to create life and I'd die for the chance, but he can do it anyway and I can't!"

"Jane—"

"He don't understand what a gift he's got. I woulda done things right in his place—Maura, you said it yourself, I courted ya! I married ya best I could before I ever really even touched ya, but no matter how long or how hard I try, I ain't _ever _gonna be able to get you pregnant!"

Maura leaned over, pulling Jane into an embrace as well as she could. Jane was shaking with repressed sobs, but mostly with frustration and anger at their situation.

"He don't want it and he don't appreciate it," Jane gulped. "But he's gonna get a baby of his own and we never will, no matter—no matter what we do!"

"Jane, _Jane,_ please!"

With one dry sob, Jane buried her face in Maura's neck, holding her tight. The doctor did all she could, rubbing Jane's back and kissing her forehead.

"I'm sorry," Jane mumbled after a long bout of silence. "Maura, I don't… I mean, I thought this was something I already got over. And I know it'll be all right, I mean I know we can still find kids, but it just don't make any sense—the unfairness of it. I don't want to complain, and I know I'll be okay, but sakes' alive! Tommy's havin' a bastard child, and we won't ever get one that's really our own."

Maura tensed. "Jane."

This time at the sound of her name, Jane looked up in concern. Maura's expression showed more than just solemnness; it was akin to one she might have worn if Jane had just slapped her in the face. Jane didn't realize which line she had crossed until Maura spoke again.

"I'm a bastard child," she said softly. "A no-account thug got my mother pregnant without being married to her, and with no intention of ever marrying her. Do you really think there's no hope for Tommy's child? She can't help the circumstances she'll be born into any more than I could."

Jane averted her gaze in shame, thoroughly embarrassed for not having thought of Maura's newly-discovered personal history. "Dammit, Maura, I can't never do anything right. After I found out about Tommy, all I wanted was to go out and get drunk, but I didn't. I came right home to ya instead, so I could talk it all out with someone, sober. And then I go and just let slip somethin' like that."

"It's all right," Maura whispered, stroking the back of Jane's neck. "It was quite jarring at first, to realize I was illegitimate. But—well, I don't know, I suppose it has something to do with the fact that I grew up assuming I wasn't, but I've decided not to let that particular fact define who I am. My father may have acted irresponsibly, and so has Tommy, but we need to do what we can for his child."

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean we need to make sure he feels supported, whether Tommy marries his mother or not."

"Maura, are you suggesting what I think you are?"

"What?"

"You want us to take in Tommy's baby."

"Don't be silly. We know next to nothing about the situation. Maybe the mother would like to keep the child for herself, regardless of whether Tommy decides to marry her. We can't be so presumptuous as to assume that either of them would be willing to drop their baby right into our laps."

"Their kid would be so lucky to get raised by you," Jane snorted. "What can Tommy offer him, or what can this _Lydia_, while we're at it? A showgirl and a louse."

"Jane," Maura said in a slightly warning tone. "It would probably do well for you to be nice to Tommy these next few months."

"What if he don't ever even tell us what's goin' on? What if he tries to keep it all secret, since none of us even know this Lydia girl?"

"There it is again—how did you find out if he didn't tell you?"

"I followed him," Jane sighed, still not wanting to get into it entirely. "I'm real good at not bein' seen, Maura. So I found out things."

"How do you know it wasn't just gossip?"

"Because Tommy said it himself, and he wouldn't have made it up." She sighed and met Maura's gaze again. "Sorry I reacted so bad, sweetheart. And I hope ya don't feel insulted; that sure wasn't my intention. I'm just frustrated with Tommy, is all."

"Yes, I sensed that."

"I mean…"

"Jane, I understand. Were you in his place, you _would _have done the right thing."

"Maybe I ain't in no place to talk," Jane muttered. "Y'know, Maura, most people wouldn't approve of what you and I are doin'. But we're doin' it anyway, 'cause it's the right thing for both of us, even if we don't really tell nobody about it. Tommy …I dunno. It should be the same, 'cause what he's done ain't in line with good society neither, but I feel like he didn't put any thought into it. He just acted without thinkin' of the consequences. That ain't what you and I did."

"Right, we thought and pondered quite heavily about every possible consequence," Maura said. "And one of those was the reality that with this relationship, we cannot have our own children. But remember, Jane, we agreed that didn't mean we couldn't _have _children. I know it doesn't seem fair to you, darling, but at least I got _one _good thing out of all this."

"What?" Jane asked anxiously.

Maura gave her a weary smile, leaning down and offering Jane a gentle kiss. "I got you."

"And I got you," Jane fervently returned before kissing Maura back. "And that don't seem quite fair, somehow."

"What do you mean?"

Jane shifted so that she was lying on top of Maura, propping herself up on her forearms and hovering over the doctor. Her dark curls tickled Maura's cheek, prompting a dimpled smile which was weakly returned by the deputy. "I mean it almost ain't fair to the rest of the world that I get to keep you all to myself. No really," she insisted when Maura chuckled at her. "Think about it, Maura. Nobody else gets to kiss you." She emphasized this by leaning down and kissing Maura quick but hard on the lips.

Arching an eyebrow, Maura challenged her, "Garrett kissed me, you know."

Were it not for the teasing tone, Jane wouldn't have taken the barb so well, but she recognized what Maura wanted. "Well he didn't ever kiss you like _this_," she said, and the kiss was not quite so gentle this time around. Her tongue swept across Maura's lips, which parted quickly and eagerly as her hands went up to wrap around Jane's neck. Jane had held herself up just a bit, but the tongue contact got her to quickly collapse fully onto Maura, anxious for as much contact as possible.

And yet, she was the one to pull away when she felt Maura tugging at the waistband of her undergarments. "I thought you said you weren't up for anything tonight," she said.

"Well, that was before you started saying such nice things about me," Maura pointed out. "You could continue in that vein, if you like."

"If I do that, we ain't ever gonna get anywhere," Jane laughed. "Boy, Maura, you sure got me turned around fast. I spent all this time bein' jealous of Tommy, when really, he should be the one who's jealous of me. He don't get to be with you like this. Nobody else gets to see you, gets to see _all _of you. Nobody else knows how every… inch… of… your body… feels." She punctuated the last few words with gentle kisses on Maura's face and neck, while also delicately trailing a hand beneath Maura's white nightgown. Jane came back up so her face was level with Maura's, and she saw that look of adoration which had been hard-earned tonight, and which nobody else ever quite received. "It probably ain't so fair that I hog that look from ya."

"Well, it's probably not very fair that you don't treat anyone like as much of a queen as you treat me," Maura pointed out.

"You deserve it for puttin' up with me. Thanks for always listening, Maura. You're the only one who can ever really calm me down."

"Any time," was the murmured reply. "Although…"

"Although what?"

"I think I found a silver lining to the fit you threw when Korsak came by earlier today."

"And what in Lucifer's reach would _that _be?"

Laughing at Jane's phraseology, Maura said, "I suppose I shouldn't be glad about it, because never in my life have I heard such a long rant of unpleasant words. But there was that one, the one which starts with an 'f,' which I've occasionally heard you try to say when you're on the verge of a climax I've brought you to—but you always manage to withhold from ever saying the word, I think out of regard for my delicate ears. And now, assuming that is the word I heard you say earlier today, I know what it sounds like in its entirety."

"And you're _glad_ about that?" Jane asked, mortified at the realization that she had finally let the worse cuss word she knew slip in front of Maura.

"In a way," Maura said with a smile. "Now the curiosity to know it is quenched."

"Well, well, Dr. Isles. Maybe you ain't so delicate as I thought."

Maura pretended to balk. "Delicate? Me?"

"Sure," Jane teased her. "You'd be lost without someone like me to look out for your virtue. You need someone who'll guide you with a steady hand." She gave Maura's thigh a tight squeeze.

"Is that so? If I didn't know any better, Jane, I'd say those are what you'd call 'fighting words.'"

"Close," Jane breathed as one of Maura's legs rose between her own. "But they ain't fightin' words."

"No?"

"No. Try that other _f _word you learned today."

* * *

A lesson Jane found herself having to learn over and over again was not to underestimate Maura's bravery or what she could handle. Living so long in the west had provided her with a much-needed thick skin, or one that was at least stronger than the delicate one she had had a lifetime to cultivate in Boston. One thing Jane was careful to avoid underestimating, though, was Maura's intuition and intelligence. Unfortunately, she left the house the next morning without ever remembering to give Maura the details of her/Jake's encounter with Tommy last night, leaving those particulars to be filled in by the only other person who had been there to witness them.

It had been a long day of work, and Maura was just starting to think it could be nice to give herself a bath when she heard a knock at the door. Idly wishing that Jane would have come by at some point during her own busy day, Maura opened the door and was surprised to see Tommy standing there.

"Hey, Maura," he said before she could get a word in. He looked vastly uncomfortable, and Maura couldn't help noticing that he appeared to have sweat quite a bit more than usual. "Is Janie home?"

"No, she isn't."

"Good."

Without invitation, he stepped swiftly inside. After a moment of silent surprise, Maura shut the door and followed him to the sofa mostly out of curiosity. He veered towards it, but once Maura sat herself down, he began pacing instead, twisting his already crumpled hat in his hands. Waiting for him to talk, Maura needlessly patted her hair and smoothed out her long, cotton skirt. The thought crossed her mind that perhaps Tommy was going to tell her about his situation with the showgirl, and frankly, the notion of discussing it with him somewhat terrified her. Rather, the anticipation of whether he might bring it up or not was what was scaring her so much; she liked to think that if he felt up to confiding in her, she would be able to handle it better.

"I just gotta talk to someone," he finally blurted out. "And I sure as hell can't tell Ma, and I can't tell Frankie or Jane 'cause they're tied to the law."

"The law? Tommy, have you… done something against the law?"

"No!" he said quickly. "Not—I mean, no. That ain't it, Maura, I swear."

"Please stop pacing, Tommy, you're making me nervous."

"Sorry," he mumbled, sitting on the chair by the sofa but continuing to knead his hat. "It's just, I ain't been able to concentrate on anything all day, on account of something that happened to me last night. It was just—I almost thought it was a dream, Maura. Insane. And if I don't talk to someone about it, I'll just bust! And I don't wanna scare you or anything, it's just that I don't trust anyone half as much as I trust you. I feel better about myself when I talk to you."

Maura gulped and folded her hands neatly in her lap. "I'm glad you feel that way about me, Tommy. I'd be happy to help if you'd like to talk."

"Okay, but you have to promise me you won't tell a soul, not even Jane. _Especially _not Jane."

"I may have difficulty telling lies, but I can keep a secret," Maura assured him. She may not have been so quick to say this had she not been certain she already knew what Tommy was going to tell her—which, it transpired, wasn't actually what he had on his mind.

He got it all out in one hurried breath: "I met Jake Wyatt last night."

Maura felt her mouth drop, and wasn't sure how long it was hanging open before she remembered to close it. Though it was clear Tommy was at least partly apprehensive, it was also apparent that he was on some level excited about it. He had been dying to tell someone about his encounter all day, and the enthusiasm with which he continued was tantamount to how someone else might have described meeting the President.

"I was in Green Forge taking care of some business, and Stanley—remember Stanley? Owns a tavern up there now? Anyway—Stanley said Jake Wyatt had been in touch with him, 'cause apparently Jake went by some time a few months ago and now he's coming again, and just wanted Stanley to know about it. And then I went to get my horse, and he was _sitting right there on the back porch!_"

"Your horse?"

"Jake Wyatt!"

"Oh. That…makes more sense, I suppose."

"I swear, I thought my heart was gonna stop beating," Tommy said, almost laughing.

"And did you…talk to him?" Maura asked slowly. She figured this was good detective work; maybe Tommy had run into the imposter Korsak had mentioned.

"I did," Tommy said with a nod. "I asked him—well, I just… I sorta asked how things were. Y'know, I don't think he's such a bad guy, Maura. I bet people talk him up to be worse than he is. He thought I was pretty brave, though!"

"How do you figure?"

"Maura, c'mon! Everyone knows that a nobody like me don't just waltz up to someone like Jake Wyatt. But I didn't know he was there at first, so I did. He must've thought I was a threat, 'cause he pulled his gun on me from a way's away."

"Were you scared? Are you all right?"

"Scared? Me? Not a chance! We just had a nice chat is all."

"What happened? How did you leave it?"

"Well…he ended the conversation after a point," Tommy admitted. "And he got me my horse and I came back home."

Maura narrowed her eyes. Being a terrible liar herself, she could usually detect when other people were attempting to bluff. Tommy's tone sounded a bit more delicate than usual, and he wouldn't quite keep her gaze, two signs that something was amiss. She couldn't help but wonder why Tommy would make such an issue out of confiding in her, and then not confide in her fully.

"What sorts of things did you talk about?" she tried.

"Oh, just men's stuff," he responded, rubbing his nose. "Nothin' you'd understand, really."

"In case you've forgotten, I practically live with a man, Tommy. I'm not entirely in the dark."

He looked surprised for a moment, then laughed when he realized she meant Jane. Leaning back a bit in the chair, he said, "I just …I asked him for a little advice, is all. I'm not sayin' I'd join up with him or anything, but I figure a man as successful as that might have some useful little… what d'you call 'em, _pearls_ of wisdom?"

"And did he?"

"I guess," Tommy muttered, as much to himself as to Maura. Neither of them spoke for a few moments after that: Tommy was thoughtfully turning his hat over in his hands, and Maura was carefully watching his expression. His guard wasn't up as much, but when he realized Maura was looking at him, he quickly put a smile back in place. "Guess maybe it wouldn't be so exciting to someone like you."

"Exciting? He's a criminal," Maura said softly. "Why are you so thrilled to have met somebody like him?"

Tommy frowned. Maybe telling Maura hadn't been such a good idea—he felt other women he'd spent time with might have shown more enthusiasm, or at least agreed it was an exciting event. Perhaps this had been the wrong way to try and impress her. "Well… he ain't _so _bad, Maura. Like I said, I don't think he's as black as he's painted. It takes a lot to make it out here, and he don't pull his punches." He shrugged. "So what? He's famous, and he gave me the time of day!"

"Yes, he's famous, I suppose that's true," Maura sighed. "I hear his picture is smeared all over the West."

"It is."

The main reason Maura believed Tommy had met Jake's impersonator and not actually Jane was because she was sure he would have recognized his own sister, even in disguise. "And how do you know it was really Jake? Did you get a good look at him?"

"Yeah," Tommy said, though he didn't look or sound particularly convincing. "Yeah, I did."

"And you don't wish to inform the authorities that you encountered one of the most wanted men in the territory?"

"They already know," Tommy said, waving his hand, and Maura once again got the impression that she was being dishonestly mollified. "Stanley had to tell 'em up in Green Forge, so don't worry. It don't matter, though," he added with a smirk. "They won't catch him."

"Oh no?"

"Nope. Too scared up there. I tell ya, Maura, nobody'll ever get that man. You take my word for it: he'll die of old age some day, and every woman this side of the Mississippi will mourn for days." He squinted at Maura, cocking his head slightly. "Except you, maybe."

"I think I'll rest easier when he's gone," Maura said. She inhaled deeply, and after another few awkward moments, it looked as though Tommy was about to stand up and go. Before he could, Maura reached out to take his arm, and smiled at him best she could. "I'm sorry not to be more outwardly happy for you, Tommy. I'm glad for your sake that you met someone who possesses some qualities you believe you can admire, even if I don't entirely approve of him myself."

"Thanks, Maura," Tommy said sincerely. "But I bet you'd change your mind if you met Jake yourself."

Maura was going to say something along the lines of "possibly," but before she could, the front door swung open and admitted Jane. She paused briefly, noticing Maura's hand on Tommy's arm, but then shrugged and strolled into the house. Tommy got quickly to his feet and Maura wasn't far behind, both of them expecting Jane to suddenly fly into a rage at their being alone together.

"Well—uh—Maura, thanks," Tommy said, his eyes a little wide. "I'll just be going…"

"See you around, little brother," Jane said from the kitchen.

Maura showed him to the door, gesturing to assure him that his secret was safe with her before all but pushing him onto the porch.

"So what was that about?" Jane asked casually as soon as the door had closed with Tommy on the other side of it.

"Really? That's all? I expected to get the third degree from you."

Jane shrugged. "You're a married woman, Maura. You don't need a chaperone, and I apologize for ever insinuating that you did. And Tommy still worries me, but not so much now that I know he's a little invested in another woman. I'm just gonna trust he ain't so much of a scoundrel that he'd try wooing you while he knows he's got a different girl in a family way."

"Funny word, 'trust,'" Maura said, walking over to join Jane in the kitchen. She walked Jane up against the table, pulling a jug out of her grasp. "I have one question for you, Deputy Rizzoli."

"Yes?" Jane practically squeaked.

"Did you find out about Tommy's impending fatherhood because he told you himself, when he thought he was addressing Jake Wyatt?"

"He _told _you?"

"It _was _you?"

"Wait…what?"

Maura frowned and took a step away. "I thought maybe he had run into the man who's been posing as Jake. How could he not have recognized you?"

"Beats the hell out of me," Jane snorted. "I was in the shadows mostly, and he just sorta jumped to a conclusion. I changed my voice and hoped for the best, and I guess it worked. And …I dunno, he just started talkin' to me. He said he wanted to join up with me."

"He told me he said no such thing! Well, that figures," Maura said, looking highly affronted.

"It does? Ain't you the one who says I'm always bein' too hard on him?"

"Jane, that is not the point. The point is, you have spent years cultivating the personality of a glamorous killer, and your brother has grown to idolize that man. I don't care what you told him last night," she said a little more loudly, as it looked as though Jane was about to protest. "Tommy is, I'm sure, only one of a million young men who think very highly of Jake Wyatt. You and the Sheriff are right; he needs to go."

"You know who needs to go first is whoever's goin' around pretending to be him," Jane said. "And Tommy gave me a hot tip that he's going to show up in Green Forge tonight."

"That's what he told me, too. I suppose you're going?"

"Have to."

"As Jane Rizzoli, or Jake Wyatt?"

Jane bit her lip, folding her arms and leaning against the table once more. "Ain't decided yet. Me and Korsak are gonna go up there. It's probably just as well Korsak asked Grant to come down here to help out; Grant's the only one in the Forge right now with enough of a backbone to take on Jake Wyatt if he ever saw him. Trust me, we'll be okay." She nearly smiled at the look of suppressed concern on Maura's face, and she reached out a hand. Maura hesitantly took it, and Jane pulled her closer, kissing the back of her hand. "I still ain't used to havin' someone worry about me," she said. "It feels a little funny."

"I'm not _too_ worried," Maura said. "Risks come with your job, and there is nothing I can do about that. I'll be here to help you if you need me to when you get back, and I know you'll agree to let me come along if there's ever any way you think I could help on the case as it unfolds."

"You're right," Jane muttered. "It's just another job."

"Yes and no," Maura reasoned. "I'm also going to trust that given the peculiar circumstances of this particular case, you will take extra precautions for your safety."

"And if I don't?" Jane teased her.

"If you don't…" Maura thought for a moment. "You'll spend a month sleeping on the sofa."

"Maura!"

"And you'll go just as long without seeing so much as an extra inch of exposed skin."

She might have just announced an intention to eliminate Jane's air supply. "_Maura!_"

"Extra precautions, Jane."

"All right, yes, I promise. I'll come back to you in one damn piece tonight, okay?"

"Not with that grumpy attitude, I don't think." Maura smiled in spite of the increased grouchiness evident on Jane's expression. "Positivity is a marvelous thing," she said in a sing-song voice. "It can have a remarkable overall affect on your health, your demeanor, and your performance."

That finally got Jane to crack a smile again, and she put her arms gently around Maura's waist. "All right, Dr. Isles, you win. Really. With you _and _Korsak on my back about not bein' reckless, you can sure as hell bet I won't be."

"Good," Maura said, turning herself around in Jane's arms. "That's what I like to hear."

"But," Jane growled, kissing her neck. "I can be reckless in other places… with you."

"Hm. That's what I'd like to see."

* * *

**A/N**: The Jake/Jake confrontation is upcoming, aka in the next chapter. Hopefully this will eventually resolve itself a little more smoothly than the tangled ideas going in my head at the moment. Reviews are love!


	27. You Can Lead a Horse to Water

**A/N**: Did everyone survive the hot married gayness of tonight's episode?! I think I still need time to recover. And watch that shower scene on a loop for the rest of my life. In the mean time, here's another chapter!

* * *

"Maura, _what _in God's name are ya trying to do to me?!"

"I think you're overreacting."

"Like hell I am! _You're_ the one who said there'd be hell to pay if I did anything reckless, and I don't see how anyone in their right mind could see your idea as anything but that! It puts _you _in danger, and that ain't even bringing into consideration your lack of experience—you ain't havin' any part of this!"

Maura frowned at Jane, then turned to look at Korsak, who was sitting at his desk, staring up at both of them. "Sheriff?"

Jane rounded towards him, and the dark glare in her eye nearly caused him to pale. But Korsak cleared his throat and sat a little straighter, determined not to let either woman get the better of him. "Jane, you're my deputy. You'll do as I say."

"_Korsak! _You can't possibly—"

"I think we owe it to Dr. Isles to allow her the opportunity to share her opinion with us."

"Thank you, Sheriff," Maura said sweetly. "It's my understanding that the two of you have spent the better part of today trying to decide how to catch Jake's impersonator, and as you have relative little time left before you attempt to do so, I thought you might appreciate a plan. The problem is that with Frost still on the road, there are only three people in the immediate vicinity who possess the advantageous knowledge that Jane and Jake are the same person. That is to say, you know, Sheriff, Jane knows, and I know."

"Yes, we're aware of all that," Jane said through her teeth.

"What you are not yet aware of are the goals of whoever is posing as Jake," Maura calmly continued. "He could just be someone hoping to catch a bit of Jake's notoriety and attention, or he could be someone who poses a legitimate threat."

"Right," Jane said sharply. "That's why _you _ain't goin', Maura."

"It's exactly why I _should _go, Jane."

"Wh—_what?_"

Korsak stood up, walking towards Maura. "I think I get you, doc. Jake Wyatt could take a shot at a deputy or somebody else he perceived as a threat, but he wouldn't ever try to hurt a woman. Never once did I hear a story concerning Jake abusing a woman in any way. It's all part of his legend. Anyone worth his salt trying to fake his way as Jake wouldn't harm a woman."

"You wanna know what guys like Tommy think about Jake Wyatt and women?" Jane barked. "They think he sleeps with 'em by the dozen! Women in every town, every city, every corner he walks around! He'll—" Jane cut herself off, perhaps realizing she needed to quiet down a tad. "Give us a second here, Korsak?" she asked, and he politely went outside. Taking a step closer to Maura, Jane whispered, "Do I have to remind you what exactly it took for me to convince them showgirls last year that you and Jake were intimate? I groped you right in front of 'em, and as far as they were concerned, it was right in character. I ain't signin' off on anything that could lead to a situation where some stranger paws you to his heart's content."

"If you're worried about my virtue, Jane, you don't need to be," Maura said patiently. "I'll be armed, and we'll be in a crowded tavern."

"Stanley don't let women in to his place unless they work there," Jane reminded her. "And no matter what we do, if we talked to Stanley or what have ya, it still wouldn't be a good idea. This town is less than thirty miles away, and you could see somebody who recognized ya, and we ain't got time for a proper disguise! What would people say if they saw Maura Isles consorting with Jake Wyatt like she knew him?"

"What would they say if you just went with Korsak, and people saw _him_, the Sheriff, working hand-in-hand with Jake Wyatt?"

Ignoring this, Jane said, "Hell, Maura we ain't got any idea how serious this guy is. Maybe he knows a lot about Jake, and maybe he doesn't. Maybe he just kinda looks like me and got away with a crime in my name. It don't mean he's an expert."

"Jane, let me do this for you."

"Do _what?_"

"Find him and talk to him. He won't be suspicious of me or my intent, and I'll make sure we're never alone together. Either you or Korsak would be nearby in case anything got out of hand."

"I'd be watchin' him with a rifle," Jane muttered. "Ready to blow his head off if he laid even a _finger _on ya."

In response to this, Maura said, "Come closer."

"Why?"

With a small half-smirk, Maura repeated the command, and Jane dubiously obeyed. Out of habit, she reached to put her arms around Maura's waist, and Maura smiled encouragingly at her. Jane inhaled sharply when Maura suddenly pulled a small knife out of her sleeve and pressed it over Jane's heart. On instinct Jane tried to pull away, but Maura quickly reached up and cupped the back of Jane's neck, holding her closely in place with the blade still hovering over the vital organ.

"Now granted," Maura whispered, "it's less than an inch to your heart through the sternum, but the bone would be difficult to break with a knife. If I were to go instead through the chest, my blade would not be long enough to penetrate the amount of muscle in front of your heart. But I would still be capable of causing significant damage, yes? Enough to stop someone if I was truly in physical danger, and give you ample time to come running in for the rescue and arrest?"

Jane sighed heavily, allowing her body to relax even as Maura kept the knife held securely up. The first question she might have asked was whether Maura would have the courage to really actually inflict physical harm on another person, but Jane quickly remembered that she had done so in the past. Admittedly it had been with a gun, from a distance, which Jane had learned early on felt quite different from stabbing someone who was right in front of you. Maura might not have been a deputy, but she was now officially a member of the team, and knew the risks of what she was doing. Considering roads they had traveled in the past, it would be insulting now for Jane to believe that Maura was incapable of taking care of herself when danger was afoot.

Still, she couldn't help from expounding more on her concern. Maura tucked the knife securely away again, and Jane reached to run her hands slowly up and down the doctor's arms.

"Listen, this could be serious," she murmured. "Somebody out there's playing with dynamite, and for now, we dunno if they're countin' on that or not. Jake's got a reputation."

"You don't need to tell me that," Maura said, her hands shifting to rest near Jane's elbows. "I've seen him in action."

"The only reason I'd let you do this is 'cause like ya said, this guy won't suspect ya. It'd need to be a one man job, and strange as it sounds, you know Jake better than Korsak does. You could tell me if you thought this guy was serious or not, and if he is, I'll be on hand to shake things up as Jake myself. I'd like to see someone have the guts to try posin' as me to my face."

"That would be a sight," Maura chuckled. She gave Jane's arms a squeeze, smiling even as Jane could not rid her face of a highly nervous expression. "Don't look so worried," she murmured. "What could go wrong?"

* * *

The amount of time left to plan was less than ideal, but as the circumstances lay outside their control, Jane and Korsak knew they had no time to perfect a thing. Despite his openness to listen to Maura's plan, Korsak had been understandably hesitant about putting her in such a position, but Jane (to his surprise) had been the one to convince him of the security of the plan, adding that it would probably be a good idea to have a doctor on hand in case things went south.

As dusk started to fall, Korsak drove a carriage slowly towards Green Forge with Jane and Maura inside, where they carefully began to make their plans. It was decided that they would keep the carriage stowed close to the tavern, and Maura would stand nearby it, watching as men walked inside. If she saw anyone who resembled Jake Wyatt, she would attempt to get his attention, and if successful, keep him in view of the carriage where Jane and Korsak would be waiting.

Korsak would be standing outside the carriage on the side opposite the tavern, and Jane would be inside, in full disguise as Jake, with a gun pointed out the window facing the tavern. At the slightest sign of danger, Jane would be ready to fire a warning shot. While Jane applied a small goatee, she and Maura came up with hand signals to be used once Maura had deduced the impersonator's intent.

Once they had gotten three chances to go over the plan, Jane rapped the top of the carriage with the handle of her gun, cuing Korsak to pull it to a stop. Maura was now to go around and sit with him up front and fill him in on the plan as they rode into Green Forge.

Before she left, she leaned forward and hopefully asked, "Kiss for luck?"

Jane looked her over, then sullenly sat back. "No."

Maura was undeterred. "Is this just displaced aggression because you're upset that I'll be the one on the front lines, and you're what we might call my back-up?"

"Sure," Jane sighed. "Gosh, Maura. Ever thought you'd be doin' something like this?"

"No," Maura said with a shrug. "But I'm not as afraid to do this as I was the last time I came on a mission with you to this tavern. Part of that is because of the experience I've had since, but …I don't know." She shrugged again, and Jane was surprised to see a mischievous glint in those Irish green eyes. "I suppose it could also be Patrick Doyle's blood finally coming out in me."

* * *

Finding the fake Mr. Wyatt turned out to be unnervingly easy.

Maura was standing in position, black lace fan held high against her face, looking a little less demure than usual. If Jane was honest with herself, refraining from a kiss in that carriage had been difficult, because Maura looked desirable as hell tonight: her dress was a bold red color, and her arms had been left bare save for two short gloves made of the same material as the lace adorning on her fan. Her hair, usually pulled up in public, was left to tumble over her shoulders, thick and golden. Before leaving Hollow Creek, she had also decided to apply a fair amount of makeup, as Jane had mentioned that Jake would never waste his time on a woman who looked too classy.

Unfortunately, as Jane had figured, more than one man was drawn to the incredibly gorgeous figure standing around outside the tavern. She narrowed her eyes and watched from inside the cabin as Maura was approached by a man who was definitely not their target. Aside from being clean-shaven, he was far too smiley to ever pull off Jake's dark, sardonic character. Also, he was very finely dressed in an East coast style suit, taking off a hat that Jane could have sworn looked like a type she might have seen on a stand in Boston.

As she was approached, Maura held the fan up to block most of her face, although she reasoned that if she didn't recognize this man he wouldn't recognize her, either.

Considering how polite this dimpled, clean fellow looked, it was a bit of a surprise when he said, "Excuse me, miss, are you what might be referred to as a woman of the night?"

"I'm—I _beg _your pardon?" Maura gasped, eyes widening.

Seeing that he had clearly made a mistake, the man laughed and said, "A showgirl, perhaps? You'll have to excuse my ignorance. I'm new to these parts, if you couldn't tell," he added, gesturing to his apparel. "The name's Dennis Rockmond. I'm an artist—perhaps you've heard of me?"

"Your name sounds familiar," Maura said, thinking she had read it in a paper somewhere.

His grin widened in a self-satisfied sort of way. "Excellent! So you know the subject of most of my work has been the American West. The great frontier! The cowboys, the savages, the _thrill _of it all!" His light brown eyes shone with excitement, and obnoxious though he was, Maura couldn't help finding his enthusiasm a bit charming. Particularly when he added, "Although I've reasonably successful, I was not happy enough with my artistic integrity. Painting from a rooftop in New Jersey is one thing, but actually going to the desert landscape, meeting the types of characters you have here? That will really help sell my art!"

"Well, that's… your dedication is very admirable," Maura finally said.

"Thank you!" And there, he at least sounded sincere. His perfect smile faltered somewhat as he realized Maura was glancing over his shoulder at people who were walking into the tavern behind him. "I'm sorry—are you waiting for someone?"

"Yes."

"Oh!" he laughed. "I'd best head on inside this tavern, then!"

"You're bound to meet many a character there," Maura said.

"I certainly hope so! Well, good night, miss!"

"Good night."

Jane rolled her eyes. She hadn't been able to hear the conversation, but she had figured from the start that the man wouldn't be a threat. Too chipper for his own good.

But she sat up a little straighter when, in a very surreal moment, she eyed Jake Wyatt's twin walking down the road towards the tavern. She kicked against the wall of the carriage, and she knew that outside, Korsak would be looking around for Jake's double. At this point she wasn't sure if she was praying Maura would notice the man or not, but the chance to worry passed within seconds, as Maura was now walking towards the impersonator.

She recognized her wildly beating heart as an involuntary physical reaction to the nervous anticipation she was feeling, and Maura knew she could only try to control her attitude: _You faced down Paddy Doyle. You shot Charles Hoyt's apprentice. You can handle this man, and if you can't, Jane and Korsak are right behind you._

When she stopped, she knew the man was sizing her up already. He was alone, and the scant few other people on the street were giving him a wide berth. It was astonishing how similar his features were to Jane's, from the dark brown eyes to the one-sided smirk he was currently wearing.

"Well, hello," he said, apparently impressed that a woman had had the gumption to stroll right up to him.

Maura's mind set to analyzing right away. While low in pitch, the voice wasn't quite as deep as Jane's, which was a little surprising. His demeanor was light but guarded, yet missing that cocksure attitude Jane so fully embodied. While his expression was confident, his body language betrayed a hint of nervousness, as if he was wondering whether he was pulling this off or not.

The discomfort noticeably increased, if only for a moment, when Maura said, "Hello there, Jake. It's been a long time."

Clearly whoever this was had thus far been spared the awkward situation of being confronted by someone who knew the real Jake Wyatt. Maura could see a temporary panic smoothly replaced with another smirk, an almost devil-may-care shrug of the shoulder.

"You're going to have to help me out," he chuckled.

"Why Jake, you don't remember me? I'm hurt."

"There have been lots of girls, little miss."

"And I'm just one of many," Maura sighed, walking a slow circle around the imposter. "Goodness, Jake, you must have been practicing. Your diction and your grammar has improved vastly since we last met. Here, at the tavern." She laughed, observing the panic was back in his eyes. "Perhaps you were more drunk than you let on that night," she said, stepping closer. "I would think you'd have remembered what happened between us… in the loft, above the stage."

It wasn't a lie. Jake had been there with her, and recalling the memory of the first time Jane had pressed up against her, a sultry edge had woven itself into Maura's tone. She was now standing so close to the fake Jake that she could see the charade falling around the him.

Or rather, her.

Jake's impersonator had more in common with Jane than any of them had thought to guess. Maura took a quick step back, her deceitfully playful expression giving way to a confusion she could not hide, and now it seemed so obvious—no Adam's apple, not a hint of stubble, a too-finely cut goatee and a mustache that was almost imperceptibly askew. Glancing back up at now-nervous eyes, Maura thought she saw the woman reaching for something on her belt. Forgetting about the knife concealed in her sleeve, Maura defensively attacked in a way which would also help confirm her theory about the imposter's gender.

She swiftly sent a kick between the person's legs, just barely remembering to hold three fingers sideways behind her back to signal Jane—_send Korsak_. Already she could hear running footsteps behind her as Jake's impersonator flinched at the blow. An awkward pause settled before realization dawned on her, and she sank to her knees with a weak groan.

"What goes on here?" Korsak barked.

"Sheriff, thank goodness you've arrived," Maura said a little breathlessly. "This person is posturing as an outlaw, and I think something ought to be done about it."

"Posturing?" the phony asked, getting to her feet.

"Looks almost like Jake Wyatt," Korsak said.

"And there's good reason for that. I _am _Jake Wyatt."

"Well then!" Korsak said cheerfully, whipping out a set of handcuffs. "You won't mind if I just bring you down to the station."

"Actually, I _do _mind," came a very Jane-like growl, as the imposter knocked away Korsak's handcuffs. She appeared to be desperately scrambling to retain her tough façade, but Korsak was having none of it.

"Then come on back here," Korsak said, amiably taking the woman's arm and half-dragging her down the street, with Maura behind them. "No cuffs. But we'll go to the station."

"I don't think we will." She yanked herself out of Korsak's grip, then pulled out a pistol, aiming it at his head. "Don't make me do this, old man," she whispered. "But if you jeopardize my job, I will. So listen up: I am _not _going to your station, understand?" Mistaking him for the Sheriff of Green Forge, she nodded at what she believed to be an empty carriage by Stanley's tavern. "You and this lady behind me here are going to get up on that carriage, and I'm going to get inside. You're going to drive me to the next town."

"Oh, Hollow Creek. Lovely place," Korsak said.

"I'm not being cute, mister," she snarled. "I'm a hardened criminal, and I won't hesitate to blow your head off, even in the presence of a lady, if you try to arrest me. You and little miss are getting on top of that carriage. I'm getting inside. You're taking me to the next town. You understand?"

"Understood," Korsak said calmly, knowing what awaited the impersonator inside this carriage.

As the three of them walked back towards the carriage, Maura realized why she had thought this woman's gait looked a bit uncomfortable, or at least unpracticed: although she had a relatively convincing swagger, it was clear to Maura's trained eye that she was not yet fully accustomed to walking with whatever she had used to create a bulge between her legs. When they got closer, Maura looked up and saw the curtain was drawn in the carriage window—presumably Jane had seen them all coming, and was now waiting to greet her imposter face-to-face.

The woman looked on as Korsak helped Maura up to the front of the carriage, then clambered up himself. As she opened the back door into the carriage, Korsak muttered to Maura, "He ain't half bad as Jake, I'll give him that."

"I'll say," Maura agreed. "You don't know the half of it. He's a she."

Korsak cracked the whip, and the carriage got rolling. "_What?_"

The imposter was getting quite a shock herself. Though shaken by the fact that two people had called her out for being in disguise, she felt she deserved a pat on the back for intimidating them enough into doing what she wanted. So it was with satisfied flair that she flung open the carriage door. Only, except for an empty interior, there was somebody sitting inside with a gun pointed right at her, looking as though he might very well have been the actual Jake Wyatt. Before either of them had time for a remark, the carriage took off, and the imposter stumbled inside.

Jane reached over with her free hand, pulling the door shut. "Name," she grunted. It wasn't a request.

Despite her terror, the faker was determined not to fold so quickly. "W-who are you?"

The look she got in response told her everything she needed to know. Eyebrows were angled downwards, not contemplatively, but in a permanent etching of troubled anger. Brown eyes so dark they were almost black stared her down in blatantly incensed impatience, a look the imposter knew she could never fully imitate—nor could anyone else who had not personally endured the worst the world had to offer. Though this person's hands were gloved, the skin on their arms and face was noticeably rough, nearly weathered. The lines in their face were hard. Callous. Every feature served to express an impenetrable lack of fear. Suddenly, she felt how incredibly artificial her disguise was. This had to be the real Jake Wyatt.

"One more time." Even that voice. It was gruff and heavy with a lifetime's worth of jaded experience. "What. Is. Your. Name."

She gulped, suddenly not caring if her employer discovered she had given up her real identity. If she didn't now, there was a sure possibility that the man sitting opposite her would pull the trigger and end her life.

"Cooper. Riley Cooper."

"All right. Now we're getting some place." Jane was about to lean back, but then something occurred to her. She sat forward, keeping her gun up. "Hands behind your head," she muttered, and Riley instantly obeyed. She flinched when Jane's fingers brushed her upper lip, then ripped the fake mustache from it. The goatee quickly followed, and Jane was laughing hysterically. Now she did lean back in the seat, if only for support as she tried to catch her breath between the laughs.

Riley was shaking, unsure of what was about to happen to her. She tried to laugh along with her captor, but the sound died in her throat. "Wh-what's so funny?" she stammered.

"Maybe I'll tell ya later," Jane chuckled, putting her pistol back in place. "Go ahead andyou're your hands back down. Don't worry. I ain't gonna hurt ya. Not yet, any way. But you're done askin' questions, understand?"

"Just one more, if I can."

"You may."

"Are you…"

"I'm Jake Wyatt, yes," Jane said shortly. "And what I'd like to know is exactly why the hell you have been pretending to be me, Riley. You don't seem so hard. You're tryin' to prove yourself, is that it? Or maybe you're out for revenge. Thought you'd commandeer a carriage if I found ya, and take me someplace. Well I'll tell you something, Riley, I been waitin' for ya. And I'm ready."

"I'm not saying a word," Riley whispered.

Jane stared her down a moment longer, but Riley seemed resolved. "Brave girl," Jane said. "Now why won't you tell me?"

"Can't."

"Don't trust me?"

Riley half-shrugged. They rode in silence for a very short while, and then Jane suddenly felt the urge to reveal herself.

She remembered with utmost clarity the first time she had met Maura Isles. They had been in a carriage, and Maura had noticed that Jake's mustache had slipped sideways a bit. And for the first time, Jane had owned up to somebody (besides Frost) that she was a woman, that Jake wasn't even real. It had felt so effortless then, it had made so much sense at the time; Jane was far from sorry she had shared her secret with Maura right off the bat.

With Riley, it felt just a little different. Jane was angry and on her guard, then a little surprised when her imposter turned out to be a little less hard than she'd expected. Not to mention female. Still, there was no denying that Riley was clearly a kindred spirit in some way. She had a score to settle, and she was brave enough to risk death (or at least arrest) to get it. Maybe if Jane was honest with her, she'd be willing to work something out.

"You want to kill me?" Jane whispered. When tight-lipped silence was the only reply she got, Jane pulled her pistol out again and cocked it. "I'm sorry, Riley, but this is one question you've gotta answer."

"And if I don't?" she asked loftily.

Jane chuckled at Riley's small level of defiance. "If you don't," she mumbled. And there she stopped, grinning slowly and letting Riley's imagination take hold. Maura was right—thoughts _were _apparently the strongest force on earth.

"I wasn't gonna kill you myself," Riley said in a choked voice.

"You wanna hand me over to someone?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I don't!" She sounded panicked, and honestly so. "Where are you taking me?"

Jane shrugged. "Depends on where this carriage is going."

"The next town…Hollow…"

"Hollow Creek, oh yes. I guess that's where I'm taking you, then. Where's the person who commissioned you?"

"I don't know. Not here."

"Incidentally, Riley, what was your plan? Hm? I gather you were thinkin' you'd try getting me in the open by posing as me. You reckoned my pride would be enough for me to come after ya, and you're right. But what did you think? You're new at this, I can tell. Were you _really _ready to try and take down somebody like me? Huh?"

"I'm stronger than I look," Riley said.

"With all due respect, sweetheart, that ain't gonna do you much good right now," Jane snorted. "I've got you at gunpoint. Normally I don't make it a practice to hurt, much less kill, women. But I might make an exception for one who was ought to get me. Okay? Now you just answer me one more question. And answer carefully, 'cause the answer might determine whether you live or die. Ready?"

Riley swallowed hard, but did her best to keep a brave face. "Yes."

"Can you listen to reason?"

This was clearly not the life-or-death question Riley had been expecting. "What?"

"Can you listen, appreciate, and understand reason?" Jane asked slowly. "In other words, how much of a hold does your nameless employer have on ya?"

With an unsure look, Riley said, "You gonna try to tell me you've been painted blacker than you really are?"

"I'm gonna try to tell you there's two sides to every story," Jane said. "And I lied, I've got another question for ya. Is the person who hired you on the right side of the law?"

It was a while before Riley answered that one. She was looking at Jake with a curious expression, trying to gauge his intent. He held his gun with a near laziness, but he wasn't lazy. It was casual. He was used to holding people up like this. He was used to people wanting his skin. This had been a stupid idea—how on earth could she have ever hoped to bring down someone like him?

"I don't think so," Riley admitted.

Jane's smile became a little more sincere, and she put the gun back. This woman could be talked into sense. "Now what's a pretty young thing like you doing going around and trying to hunt a sonuvabitch like me? And all for someone on the wrong side of the law?"

"I needed the money," Riley said.

"What for?"

"I just needed it. People need money. Maybe someone like you doesn't understand that, because you don't come by it honestly."

"Slow your roll there, miss," Jane said, leaning back. "Things ain't always what they appear." Her gaze finally shifted between Riley's legs, and her eyebrows rose. Something was definitely down there. Curiously, Jane stepped across the carriage to sit on Riley's side, forgetting herself momentarily. "For instance, what's this you've got there?" she asked, letting her hand drift to Riley's waist.

Riley inhaled sharply, and Jane quickly remembered that she was still under the impression that Jane was in fact a man. Jane pulled back, and in her brief moment of apologetic withdrawal, Riley saw her chance: she punched Jane in the gut and tried to duck away, but Jane recovered quickly from the blow, grabbing Riley around the waist. Riley attempted vainly to pull herself out of Jane's tight grip, reaching for the door in hopes of jumping out while the carriage was in motion.

"Give up, Riley," Jane growled, tightening her hold. "I ain't gonna hurt ya—"

"Then let me go!" Riley shouted, elbowing Jane in the stomach. When still this didn't free her, she grabbed hold of one of Jane's arms, yanking it as hard a she could as they fell to the floor of the carriage.

Were it not for the loud rumbling sound of the coach wheels on rocky ground, combined with the grunts and hooves of the horses, Korsak and Maura probably would have heard the fight going on behind them. Instead, Jane and Riley were left to scuffle alone, and Jane had to admit Riley was putting up a pretty good fight. Of course, the unpredictable rumbling of the coach was working to Riley's advantage as well—one more wrench of Jane's arm was coupled with a sudden sharp bump in the road, and Jane knew it was broken or at least sprained.

"Dammit, Riley," she muttered, releasing the woman and pulling her hat off. She ripped the pins out of her hair that kept it up in a bun, and as Riley watched in shock with one hand on the door, Jane impatiently ripped off her own fake facial hair. "Now please," she said steadily. "Do not leave this carriage."

* * *

**A/N**: Don't worry, y'all. Jane and I know what we're doing :)


	28. Make My Day

**A/N**: All I'll say is that it was really hard not to create a situation in this chapter where someone had to ask, "Will the real Jake Wyatt please stand up?"

* * *

Jane later figured she shouldn't have been surprised when the first question Riley managed to articulate was, "Well! What were the odds I'd run into another _woman _trying to pass herself off as Jake Wyatt?"

"This may come as a shock, Riley," Jane grunted, getting back up on her seat. "But I ain't kidding around. I'm Jake Wyatt, and I'll be damned if you didn't just break my arm!"

"I don't—I don't understand," Riley stammered, pressed against her side of the carriage like a trapped rat. One who knew where the door was and how to open it, but was afraid to try.

"Don't expect you to without an explanation," Jane said calmly while trying to assess how much damage had been done to her arm. "And I aim to give ya one. Sort of."

"Jake Wyatt's an outlaw," Riley said in a hushed voice. "What would a woman be doing posing as him?"

"Lemme tell you again, Riley. I _am _him. Jake Wyatt was a creature born out of revenge. You ever heard of the Surgeon?"

"A demon," Riley said breathlessly.

"Yeah," Jane snorted, kneading her gloved hands. "Didn't know his name, didn't even know his face. Nobody did. But I was determined to prove this demon had blood in his veins, and I vowed to make it spill one day on behalf of all the people he killed. All the lives …of children, of families, he ruined."

Riley's expression had softened somewhat, but she was still physically on her guard. "How old were you?" she asked quietly.

Jane caught her gaze. "Fourteen. Mad as hell at the world and nothin' to do about it. For a little while I wondered if maybe I could pass myself of as a boy and join a militia someplace. Use all this…" How had Maura described it? "Pent-up energy for somethin' productive."

"Like becoming another Surgeon?" Riley asked darkly, folding her arms.

"Hey." Jane hadn't even raised her voice, but something in the inflection of that one word made it clear that she was about to be deadly serious. "You compare me to that bastard again and I'll slap your mouth, Riley Cooper."

"I thought Jake Wyatt never attacked women," Riley said, a bit snidely given the warning she had just received.

Jane's lip curled. "Oh, he doesn't. But Jane Rizzoli-Isles ain't above slapping a fellow female if it's called for. And in my book, slander like that calls for it."

Arms still folded, Riley sat a little straighter and asked, "All right, what _is _your game, then?"

"Y'know, it's funny. It didn't quite turn out the way I thought it would, but… anyhow, I knew I couldn't be taken seriously as some scrawny kid. I figured if—I figured maybe if I could get myself a real fierce reputation, I could get close to the Surgeon's circle. Maybe give him someone to be worried about, looking over his shoulder for, y'know?"

Clearly just placating Jane, Riley asked, "Yeah? You scare him good?"

"I killed him."

It was the first time she had been able to say this and sound casual. The mission had been accomplished, job finally done. It had happened. It was in the past. Riley's stance had loosened slightly in surprise.

"He was just the last of quite a few," Jane continued. "Maybe you noticed, Riley—I didn't ever kill anyone who didn't deserve it. And lots of the notorious fellas I got in skirmishes with who I didn't kill right off—they ended up in jail shortly after messin' with me. Those weren't ever coincidences, neither. I always left tips for one Sheriff or another."

"Very tidy, weren't you?"

"Don't believe me, do you?"

"Nope. Too far-fetched."

"How can I prove it to you?"

"I don't know. How _can _you?" There was an awkward pause before Riley thought of a question whereby she might snag this braggart. "Jake Wyatt's supposed to be a real Romeo with the ladies," she said, and Jane chuckled. "How'd you wrangle _that_ one, Miss… Isles?"

Jane chuckled again, this time at being addressed with Maura's name. She hadn't been sure what had made her throw it out here, but she liked the sound of it. "Easy," she finally said. "You know women. They exaggerate things. If I did half the stuff I'm supposed to have done, there'd be little Jake Wyatt's runnin' all over the West!"

"A woman wouldn't exaggerate to your face, though," Riley pointed out. "And the tart who's currently sitting atop this carriage—" (a crass word Jane did not object to only because to be honest, Maura had been dressed and made up more tawdry than usual) "—made it very clear that she and Jake were intimate. And trust me, I can tell when a woman's lying about such things. She _knew _Jake Wyatt."

"If that's true, how come she didn't recognize you were a faker?" Jane asked.

"She did, eventually," Riley admitted. "Maybe she couldn't tell right away because she was drunk the night she and Jake went at it, or it was dark, and I resemble him enough."

"Interesting theory."

"Yup. Now I don't care how little of an education a woman's got: she's still smart enough to know the difference between men's bodies and women's bodies."

"Sure, if they're undressed," Jane agreed lightly.

"Well…"

She wanted to mess with Riley a bit. Grinning wickedly, Jane stood up best she could and with her good arm, opened the hatch on the top of the carriage. "Driver!" she called out. "Take this coach to Wohaw Springs, then go jump in a lake!" She then went and sat back down, wary of her injured arm. "Now, where were we? Oh, right. Women. I knew Jake had to be popular with women, 'cause then I could at least tell myself I wasn't a _total _scoundrel. If women could fawn over me, I couldn't be so bad, right? But as you say, I am lacking certain parts required to sell someone on my male-ness, so I had to get creative."

"Creative?" Riley asked warily.

"Sure. Do you know how many women I've had remove their shirts just at the sight of me across a room?"

This _had _actually happened before, in seedy towns Jane and Frost had never revisited. What Jane neglected to mention was that she had always turned away when she saw this occurring, or looked the woman only in the eye. She had never allowed herself to give in to or even acknowledge that temptation until Maura had come into her life. But Riley didn't have to know that, at least not yet. Embellishing would be too fun.

"You know the miraculous thing about making love to a woman, Riley? She can be…" Jane pursed her lips and waved her hand a little, as if trying to grab one of Maura's vocabulary words right out of the air. "_Stimulated _in so many ways. You don't have to take off one single piece of clothing yourself, and you can make her _faint _in ecstasy."

There had been a few cases of women fainting at the sight of Jake—a couple from nerves, but some just from the excitement of meeting such a famous and devastatingly handsome person.

Riley looked thoroughly confused. "So you've… been with women before?"

"Told you: I've been dedicated to selling Jake's image best I can."

"And none of them ever figured out you were a…"

"Nope. Not a one."

"H—_how?_"

"C'mere, Riley." When the woman understandably hesitated, Jane patiently waved her over. "C'mere, c'mere! C'mon, I ain't gonna bite ya…" She waited until Riley had clambered over to sit next to her before adding in a sultry undertone, "Unless you want me to." When Riley's eyes widened, Jane chuckled, "It's okay. Not a lot of women like that, probably. But one I see pretty regularly does. She likes it a lot, in fact." And that much was certainly true. Jane lowered her voice. "The secret's in only letting 'em touch ya in certain places. Sometimes they don't even care about lookin' too close; they just take _this,_" she said, cupping the bulge in her pants, "for granted. If they were to actually touch it, some of 'em might get a little suspicious. Now you level up, Riley. Why d'you wanna know?"

"Because it's strange."

"Because you want it, too?"

"No," Riley said honestly. "I don't."

Jane nodded at her. "Tell you what, Miss Cooper. I'm gonna make you a deal, here, so long as you're honest with me. Who all did ya convince that you were Jake Wyatt?"

"Everyone I saw," Riley said with a shrug. When Jane raised an eyebrow, Riley added, "Well… most everyone I talked to, anyway."

"Ever have a run-in with another crook, or get stopped by the law?" Jane asked. Riley's silence was enough of an answer—despite having robbed a bank, she hadn't come up against anyone who could give Jake Wyatt a real run for his money. Everyone had been too scared to try to even get close, and by the time authorities had been notified, Riley had been out of there. "It's easy when there ain't nobody around who scares _you_, ain't it?" Jane pushed, her voice soft.

"What's the deal you want to make?" Riley asked, her throat dry.

"Well, hold on now. Whoever employed you—did he have a plan if your ruse fell through?"

Riley stared at the floor of the coach and shrugged. "Said if I hadn't found the real Jake within two months, they'd get somebody else. Doesn't matter if I died trying; they wouldn't care. I'm just an instrument in their hands."

"You _were_ an instrument in their hands," Jane said, clapping Riley on the shoulder. "That's the deal, Riley. I convince you that I'm the real Jake, and I'll get you out of this. You won't have to answer to someone on the wrong side of the law, and you'll cooperate with me instead. You can help destroy Jake Wyatt without shedding any blood yourself."

There was a contemplative silence as Riley surveyed her, heart pumping anxiously. This was too crazy to be true, and yet Jane seemed so confident, so… strangely trustworthy. "How d'you know if you can trust me?" Riley finally asked. "What if I just save myself the time and trouble, and I kill you?"

Jane couldn't help laughing. "You said you weren't gonna kill me, you were gonna deliver me to whoever bought your services. So you would have to subdue me, which I guarantee would be a helluva lot harder than killin' me outright. Now, Jake? Maybe you could knock him out, if his partner was outta town—which he is, as a matter of fact, at this moment. Hell, I've been shanghaied as Jake more times than I can count, 'cause nobody'd ever be brave enough to stand up to a criminal tryin' to get rid of me and my partner himself. But me, _really? _Jane? I go missin', or I get hurt, and there's a small village's worth of people who'll be callin' for your hide." She let that sink in before adding, "That ain't my pride talking, Riley. It's just simple fact."

"So," Riley said in a hushed voice, "if you prove it to me…"

"Then we'll talk," Jane said. "And I want one more thing."

"What?"

"If you're satisfied with my explanation after this is all done, I want you to hand over whatever it is you've got shoved down your pants, there."

To say Riley looked shocked by this request would probably be selling her reaction short a bit, but sensing Jane's utter seriousness, she finally swallowed and nodded. "Fine. Thing's a pain, anyway."

"Not if you're wearing it right," Jane said back, totally straight-faced.

Silence followed, as Riley had no idea how to properly respond to that statement, and Jane went about re-applying her fake mustache and goatee. The carriage rolled to a stop about a minute later, and Jane swung open the door, knowing that this time Riley wouldn't try running off. "If you two wouldn't mind coming down from there," Jane called up to Korsak and Maura, who quickly obliged. Jane was glad to see that Maura followed Korsak's suit when he acted surprised to see someone besides Riley had been in his coach.

"I'll be damned!" he said, holding up his hands. "Jake Wyatt?!"

"You bet your ass, old man," Jane said, taking hold of Riley's elbows. "I see them handcuffs on your belt—mind puttin' 'em on this girl, here? Just a precaution," she explained to Riley, as Korsak hurriedly obliged. Jane turned to Maura, praying she could go along with the act. "Now _you…_ don't I know you from some place?"

Maura's eyes darted around. They were on the outskirts of Wohaw Springs, without a soul in sight. They were safe, for the moment. She stepped closer to Jane, slowing her movements in an attempt to sensualize them, not realizing that where Jane was concerned, she never had to _try _to look appealing. "Jake, you _scoundrel_," she purred, practically growling the last word.

Even if it was just for show, Jane couldn't help feeling aroused in a completely new way by this side of Maura. She put her good arm around Maura's waist and said, "You'll have to forgive me if I'm a little hazy on the details, Miss…"

"Johnson," Maura whispered, and the use of Jane's old pseudonym made her smile. "Cad." She then noticed the limpness in Jane's other arm, as if she was trying to avoid moving it much, and her brow furrowed with concern.

"Don't worry," Jane whispered, softly enough that only Maura could hear her. "I'm fine. Now slap me."

"What?" Maura whispered, looking alarmed.

Jane's back was to Riley, and she did her best to nod subtly in her direction. "Make me really look like a dog, Maura, sell it."

She didn't need telling twice, already annoyed that Jane had gone and gotten herself hurt. Maura rose to the bait, slapping Jane's cheek hard enough to look angry, but not hard enough to inflict any sort of real injury. Jane laughed loudly, cavalierly, and took Maura by the wrist, quickly turning her and kissing her deeply. The fact that Korsak was watching as well didn't even occur to her, as she wanted only to prove to Riley the depth of her commitment to making Jake look legitimate. Maura felt her eyes close instantly and her knees went weak, as they always seemed to whenever Jane took charge like this. She couldn't have fought it if she had wanted to.

But then Jane broke it off before it felt like they had even begun, and Maura remembered they were not alone at home. "Secret of bein' a heart-breaker outlaw?" Jane said, stepping away from Maura and taking Riley's elbow again, steering her towards town. "Always leave 'em breathless, and always leave 'em begging for more."

Once Maura had in fact summoned enough breath, she called after Jane, "You'll pay for that one later, Jake Wyatt!"

"Lookin' forward to it!" Jane yelled back.

Maura just sighed and smirked at Jane's retreating figure, and then it finally dawned on her to be concerned again. "Sheriff—should we be letting Jane go into town in disguise like this?"

"Oh sure," Korsak said lightly. "It's not a problem in Wohaw Springs."

"Why not?"

"Nearest thing Jake has to a home base besides the Creek, I guess. Mostly Indian territory, and they've always been reasonable with Jake Wyatt." He smiled. "But our imposter doesn't have to know that." Maura laughed in understanding, and once that sound passed, Korsak (somewhat tactlessly) though to ask, "Was… that the first time Jane's ever kissed you?"

"Far from it," Maura replied without stopping to think.

As soon as she _did _realize what she had just said, Korsak coughed, "All right, then," and a slightly awkward silence settled in for quite some time.

Meanwhile, Jane and Riley had reached the closest thing Wohaw Springs had to a prison, which was a clump of cells guarded by one seemingly unarmed man, far out of sight of Maura and Korsak. Letting go of Riley, Jane walked over and shook the guard's hand, and the guard asked, "What can Wohaw Springs do for Mr. Wyatt today?"

"You can gimme your worst."

The guard nodded at the cell on the end of the row. "That man. Very troublesome."

Jane sauntered over to the last cell, where she saw a massive but quaking convict. "Troublesome, huh?" she asked.

"He's dangerous," the guard said. "Doesn't care who he hurts, and with no reason. He is selfish, he is proud, and he is set to be executed in four days."

"Name?" Jane asked, nodding at the convict. The guard knew he wasn't being addressed, and so remained silent, while the convict's eyes darted nervously over to him. "I'm talkin' to _you_, ya piece of scum," Jane explained. "What is your name?"

"Douglas."

"Doug, huh? Well, Doug, you're gettin' the Jake Wyatt special today. Here's how I see it: you're set to die in a few days, guaranteed. And you'll die like a dog, with nobody remembering your name and nobody giving a damn that ya passed. You'll die a crook, in a crook's grave. Nobody to bat an eye, or shed a tear, or think 'gosh, that fella wasn't so bad after all.' Or, you could die a legend. A hero."

"H-how's that?" Doug stammered, trying desperately not to look like a coward in front of Jake Wyatt.

Jane's smile came on in full force: it didn't matter if she was in disguise or not; she would always derive pleasure from making lawbreakers like this guy cower. "You. Me. Showdown. Right here, right now. I win, and you die. You win, and you still die—but you'll have the glory of havin' taken out Jake Wyatt first."

"What use is the glory if I'm dead?" Douglas asked.

Jane shrugged. "Well, Doug, that's between you and the Lord."

She could see him working it out in his mind. It wouldn't hurt to get in good with God; maybe then his deathbed repentance wouldn't be necessary. Or… on the other, better hand—what if he _did _win, and he managed to escape? All that stood between him and freedom was a half-Indian with no gun. And there it was, Jane saw it: that last spark of slightly-insane desperation. Douglas was telling himself he could do it. He was good enough, fast enough, sharp enough to survive this.

"I heard you'd been around these parts," he finally said. "And I was hoping I'd maybe see you before I went on."

Jane's grin widened. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Douglas. Now what d'you say?"

"I say…"

"Do you feel lucky?"

Douglas held out his hand. "I do."

"All right, Doug. Now I need your word," Jane said, taking his hand through the bars and not letting go. "You know the rules? We take ten paces, and turn. You go quicker than that, and there'll be a knife in your back faster'n you can say 'bull.'"

"Bull," Douglas snorted.

He saw Jane stoop slightly, her arm twisting behind her for a moment, and felt his jaw drop when she revealed a knife in her palm. Douglas glanced over her shoulder to see his guard standing casually nearby, hands folded in front of him, looking nonchalant. Jane tossed the knife back to him, and he deftly caught it, sticking it back into an inside pocket.

"You won't hear or see it comin'," Jane said softly. "So I mean it. No funny business. You still wanna take me up on this?"

Douglas's mouth felt dry, but he nodded. "I do."

Jane raised a challenging eyebrow and stepped away, nodding at the guard. He walked over with a chain of keys, and Riley looked on in shock. "What are you doing?" she whispered urgently.

"Showin' you that this ain't a joke," Jane said shortly. "And that _I _ain't a joke, either." She put one arm around Riley's waist, stepping closer and unable to suppress a shiver when the sock between her legs came into contact with whatever noticeably-harder item Riley was using to create a bulge. _Whatever it is… maybe I can use it on Maura… _Jane cleared her throat needlessly, and took Riley's own gun out of her belt. "I'll just borrow this, if you don't mind."

When she turned around, it was to see that Douglas was out of his cell, but his shackles had not yet been removed. "How do I know if _I _can trust _you?_" he asked.

Jane shrugged. "You can't. But the way I see it, you're gonna die anyway. You have my word, though, that I wouldn't shoot nothin' or nobody without givin' them a fair fight in an instance like this. That said, I wanna make sure you know what you're up against." She glanced over her shoulder, and spotted a bushel of acorns hanging from the top of a dying tree several yards away. "See that over there?" she asked, jabbing her thumb in the bushel's general direction. Her turnaround was slightly off due to her broken limb, but it still took less than two seconds for her to turn on the spot and shoot one bullet at the faraway target. Jane stowed her weapon as the bushel fell to earth, and she heard a loud _thump _behind her.

Douglas had fainted.

"We'll chalk up another one for Mr. Wyatt," grunted the guard, dragging Douglas' body back into his cell. "Thank you."

"Always a pleasure," Jane said, giving the guard a two-finger salute before gently leading Riley back to the edge of town. "That usually happens," she said, her voice casual. "You see an allegedly hardened criminal wanna take his shot at glory, but he folds more often than not. Turns out most of 'em can't handle the pressure of facing down someone like me, and they'd rather die quick and simple by a hangman's noose. Plus, it usually turns 'em humble—not that that does any good to anything but their souls, but it's a nice principle all the same."

"Oh, sure," Riley said weakly.

"So?"

"So…"

"Have I convinced ya?"

They had stopped walking, the carriage finally in sight in the distance. Being held up in the coach had been one thing, but seeing Jane in action in the wide open had been an even stronger confirmation of her assertion than Riley's initial gut reaction. There had been a very noticeable confidence to Jane's step that Riley knew she herself had only been able to imitate: there was not a sliver of doubt in Jane's countenance or demeanor that somebody would find out she wasn't really Jake Wyatt, because she _was _JakeWyatt. She swallowed hard again, lifting her cuffed hands.

"You convinced me, Mr. Wyatt."

Still, Riley couldn't help feeling a little betrayed when they got back to Hollow Creek and Jane asked Korsak to put Riley behind bars. "Just for a spell," Jane said casually, her facial hair gone again. "Just for tonight, maybe. You were impersonating an outlaw, Miss Cooper, and we don't take that lightly around here. Furthermore, I gotta figure out how exactly you can be useful to me. It wouldn't do to have you runnin' away in the meantime. Korsak?"

"Yes?"

"Keep in your cell in the office—make sure she's comfortable." Jane pulled a small burlap sack out of her inside vest pocket and handed it to Riley. "That agreement we made earlier?" she prompted, heart beating wildly. "Put it in there, and Korsak will bring it to my house. He'll bring it without lookin' inside."

Riley grimaced and looked away. "It won't fit in there," she mumbled.

"I can lend you a bag," Korsak said. "No trouble at all."

"Good," Jane said, putting her arm around Maura's waist, feeling unaccountably free. "Now Miss Cooper, I'm sure you've got a mess of other questions to ask me—"

"Hell yes, I do."

"—but they'll have to wait until tomorrow, I'm afraid. I'm mighty tired."

"Poor dear," Maura said, giving Jane a squeeze. "We ought to get you into bed."

"I like your thinking," Jane returned with a mischievous grin. "Well—g'night, Korsak! Miss Cooper." She waved as Korsak clambered back on top of the coach and drove Riley into town, away from the house where he had just dropped Jane and Maura. "Phew," Jane sighed, leading the way up to the porch. "Quite a day, huh, Dr. Isles?"

"Considering your attitude, I suppose I should be calm," Maura said, walking inside as Jane held the door open for her. "Do I want to know what exactly happened between you and Miss Cooper?"

Jane shrugged. "I made it clear to her that she wasn't chattin' with another imposter."

"Why would she think you were an imposter?"

"I told her my story," Jane said with another shrug.

Maura gasped at her, shocked that Jane could be so casual about something so significant. "And you didn't think there would be any negative repercussions to that?"

"None I can't handle," Jane replied, easing herself onto the sofa. "Call it a gut feelin', Maura, but Riley's gonna be a useful asset. She can help us make sure Jake Wyatt goes for good. You could tell yourself she wasn't a real threat to me, right? So all we gotta do is make sure we keep her under our thumb, and we'll be okay. Don't look so worried, please."

"What happened to your arm?" Maura asked mournfully.

"Ah, well. She tried fightin' her way out of the carriage at first," Jane explained. "And I'd have taken her fine, but the road was real bumpy and Korsak was driving sorta carelessly, so we fell on the floor of the coach. I think that's how I injured it."

"Let me take a better look at it," Maura sighed, lighting the closest lamp and rolling up Jane's sleeve. "And then perhaps we can take a little more about your decision to let Riley in on so much of Jake's operations."

"Hey." The gentle word got Maura to look up, and Jane frowned thoughtfully at her, tucking a thick strand of hair behind Maura's ear. "Have I ever been careless when it comes to the truth? Maura, I… well, I may have talked myself up a _little _bit, 'cause Riley asked how a woman could ever be such a charmer with other women, so I exaggerated my exploits a bit. Point is, she knew I was a woman when I kissed ya like that in Wohaw Springs. I wanted her to see."

"Why?" Maura asked.

"I dunno. And I like that I don't know. Maybe it don't matter 'cause we don't really know her, but I just wanted to kiss you in front of somebody—somebody who knew I wasn't a man, and who knew I was happy to be doin' it."

"I'll say you did. Korsak was right there, you know."

"Yeah, I thought about that after the fact," Jane chuckled. "He give ya any grief about it?"

"Not _grief_, no… but Jane. I really do hope you know what you're doing."

"All you gotta do is trust me, Maura."

Maura sighed heavily, searching Jane's eyes for some sort of secret. But all she saw reflected at her was gentle honesty. "God help me, I _do _trust you. I'm not sure I understand you all the time, but I trust you, Jane."

"Good," Jane murmured, stroking Maura's cheek and leaning in for a kiss. She groaned when, only moments later, Maura gave her leg a sharp slap. "Ow! What was that for?"

"Trying to distract me from looking at your arm, for one thing," Maura said. "And for another, I told you I was going to make Jake pay. And you seemed to be looking forward to it. Do you still want me to make good on that threat, or not?"

"By all means, doctor," Jane said, slowly grinning. "Collect."

* * *

**A/N**: Sorry this update took a little longer than usual- hopefully that won't happen again! There is definitely still a lot Riley needs to be filled in on, but before that, Rizzles awaits. As does their new dog. And a callback to that Boston trip. Thanks everyone for reading, and please review!


	29. Role Play

"You know what I don't understand," Maura murmured, carefully positioning Jane's arm in a sling, "is how you managed to swagger your way through Wohaw Springs, presumably without complaint of pain—and from what I can deduce based on my somewhat well-rounded knowledge of your personality, you would not have complained at the time of the injury—and yet here, now, you are wincing and grumbling about it. How much pain are you _in?_"

"Enough," Jane grunted. "Sakes' alive, Maura. I'm only whimpering 'cause everywhere else, I have to put on a show. You think Jake Wyatt ever cried over a broken bone?"

"It's not broken," Maura said patiently. "It's fractured."

"Whatever it is," Jane said, waving her free hand. "You think Riley woulda believed I was some fearless outlaw if I'd gone and cried about it in front of her? I'm just…" She winced when Maura tied the sling tightly, jerking Jane's arm upwards in the process. "I feel like it's okay for me to have my guard down around ya… ain't it?"

Maura sighed softly, pushing some hair out of Jane's face. "Of course it's alright," she whispered. "I'm sorry, I was only teasing you, Jane. That was in poor taste."

"S'okay," Jane muttered, taking Maura's hand. "I guess I deserved it, acting like a fool the way I did." She sighed heavily, leaning back on the sofa and frowning at Maura. "Know what this means, though?" she said, lifting her arm best she could. "I ain't gonna be up for much foolin' around for a while."

"Maybe _you _won't," Maura said, grinning suggestively. "But _I _will."

Her smile deepened as she saw Jane's only response was to reflect it and unconsciously spread her legs just a little. Maura got off the sofa to kneel on the floor in front of Jane, between her knees. Her eyes dipped briefly downwards before reconnecting with Jane's, staying there as her fingers nimbly undid the clasp on Jane's belt, opening it just enough to reach the button of Jane's trousers beneath it. Before removing anything else, though, Maura ran her hands gently down Jane's legs, pulling off both of her dusty boots. Rather than simply set them aside, Maura tossed the boots over her shoulder, and they clattered to the floor near the fireplace.

"Maura," Jane gasped softly, accustomed to being chided by her partner for similar behavior.

But Maura acknowledged nothing, instead moving her hands back up to the waistband of Jane's worn, grey trousers and tugging downwards. Jane shifted, and Maura thought it was to aid in the undressing process, but Jane reached down with her free hand to take hold of Maura's wrist.

"I ain't wearin' anything under this," she said. "Nothin' except, er, Jake's sock."

"Oh," Maura said quietly. "You…don't like anything coming between you and it?"

Jane swallowed. "Right."

Maura nodded, opening the trousers a little more and slowly pulling out the sock. She couldn't help smirking as she recognized the sound of Jane trying to stifle a moan, an endeavor which she was only slightly successful in accomplishing. Jane found it particularly difficult to remain quiet as Maura stroked the stuffed sock against her cheek before reverently laying it on the carpet next to her. Jane's hips jerked upwards, assisting Maura to pull the trousers all the way off, which she then tossed away as carelessly as she had Jane's boots. Jane held her breath as Maura leaned back slightly, hands idly rubbing Jane's knees. The black-and-white plaid shirt Jane was wearing had been tucked into her pants, and was long enough that in this position, it just barely covered the area Maura's hand was itching to get to. Unconsciously she licked her lips, then looked up at Jane, who was about to part her legs further before Maura stood up.

"Wha?" was all Jane could manage, practically whining.

She knew she was done for when the only response she got was a very un-Maura like giggle. "I told you I was going to make you pay for leaving me breathless earlier, Mr. Wyatt," she said, straddling Jane's lap. She reached for the black cowboy hat which had been thrown onto the sofa earlier, and placed it on her own head. She cocked it, and Jane grinned in spite of her growing desperation. "I had to fix your arm before you let me collect," she continued in the same light tone, "and now, rest assured, I am going to collect."

"How?" Jane whimpered, rolling her hips again.

Maura's hand drifted to Jane's waist, pressing it gently but strong enough that Jane got the message to stay put. "By making you learn the art of patience," she replied, whispering into Jane's ear. "You've always been a shoot-'em-up, move-fast or get-out type of man, haven't you, Mr. Wyatt?"

"Yeah."

"You need to learn how to stop and smell the roses."

Jane inhaled deeply. "I smell somethin' powerful strong, Maura, but it sure ain't no rose."

There was that girlish laugh again, and Jane could practically feel her need gnawing to get out of her, burrowing up to her chest. "You _are_ bad, aren't you?" Maura chuckled, removing the hat and using it to fan herself before letting it fall to the floor. "You know, I hardly recognize you, Jake, without your beard and mustache." Her finger trailed over from Jane's ear to her upper lip, then her chin. Stroking the cleft there, Maura said, "You never _did _tell me your secret about shaving there."

"I reckon I'm in trouble, there," Jane said. "With this bad arm and all, it's gonna be a bit of a trick to shave."

"Hm? Well, perhaps I could assist you there."

"You think so?"

"Oh, certainly."

Jane hadn't thought Maura meant right at that moment, but before she could even complain, Maura was up and off her. The smirk on her face belied how weak and useless her legs felt, but she was able to get over to their washroom fairly quickly. She appreciated that at least Jane was playing along, understood the intent, and had not followed her. Next to their small, wooden washtub were two dishes of soap: one regular, one of a higher lather for shaving. Jane rarely used the first and never the latter; Maura had secured it from the town barber for the purpose of shaving beneath her arms and occasionally her legs—a tactic she had quickly grasped in the West as a means of more easily detecting lice or other unwelcome visitors. In addition to this dish of soap, she grabbed a raggedy towel, dunking it in a nearby bowl of water before walking back out to the sitting room.

At the sound of Maura's return, Jane looked curiously over her shoulder, and wasn't quite sure what to feel at what she saw. Maura silently came back to face her, laying the towel and soap dish on the sofa next to Jane. This time, instead of kneeling on the floor in front of Jane, Maura lifted her skirts and straddled her the best she could. She smiled gently when Jane's good arm came around, her hand resting at the small of Maura's back.

"Now let me see," Maura said under her breath, taking Jane's chin between two fingers. "Yes, Mr. Wyatt, you really should start shaving every day if you can. At least, the hard to reach places."

She picked up the towel, dabbed Jane's face with it, then rubbed it against the soap, creating a thick lather. Jane hardly breathed during the time that Maura then set about applying the stiff lather to her face with a small brush. It tickled, but Jane barely noticed; she was reacting elsewhere in more noticeable ways. In part she was fascinated that despite the occasional, involuntary jerk of her, Jane's, hips, Maura remained utterly focused until her job was done. Putting the soap back down, she couldn't help smiling at what Jane looked like just now: a little funny, yes, but ultimately so endearing. For a moment Maura forget her brazen act, and leaned forward to plant a soft kiss on Jane's nose.

When she pulled back, she saw Jane's gaze move sideways for an instant. _She's wondering what I'll use to get this off. _A razor felt out of the question: after Hoyt had held a scalpel so close to Jane's face in a harrowing situation, Maura did not want to reciprocate that action in any way, no matter how innocent. There was a very good chance that Jane wasn't at sensitive as she, that no such comparison would even have crossed her mind. But for her own well-being, at least, Maura did not want to go there.

For a second time, she stood up and walked away, now heading for the row of pegs by the door. On the farthest one sat her riding jacket, and beneath that, her brown leather riding crop. When she walked back to the sofa with the crop in hand, she saw Jane's eyes narrow, then widen.

"You've got such a smooth, pretty face," Maura whispered, settling herself on top of Jane again. "I would hate to risk cutting it with a razor."

"That looks…" Jane started and swallowed, losing her train of thought, the rest of her sentence gone forever as Maura brought the thin handle of the crop close to her face.

Maura held it down, wiping away as much of the lather as she could in one go. Jane closed her eyes, surrendering herself to the unspeakably gorgeous feeling of the leather brushing against her cheek, guided by Maura's sure but gentle hand. Occasionally there was a break as Maura withdrew the crop to wipe off the lather with the towel, but then the caress would be back, slowly bringing cool air back to Jane's skin. Her fingers bunched up the material of Maura's outermost skirt, trying to pull her closer, and Maura did not refuse her this much. Jane's eyes opened lazily, and she was greeted by the sight of Maura's cleavage practically heaving right in front of her.

_She needs to dress like a tramp more often…_

"Eyes up, Mr. Wyatt," Maura prompted her, tapping the crop under Jane's chin. Jane obediently tilted her chin upwards, and Maura stroked the crop up her neck, collecting the last of the lather. Once she had wiped the crop clean for the last time, she said in a self-satisfied tone, "There now. That looks _much_ better."

"Y'know, I always used to shave myself before."

"You don't do a terrible job, I must say. Your mustache and goatee are always excellently trimmed."

"I dunno…you may've made me seen the light about letting other people give it a shot."

"_May_ have?" Maura teased her.

And then, in what couldn't have been better (for Maura's payback) or worse (for Jane's sake) timing, a knock sounded at the door.

"Don't you dare," Jane said, tightening her grip on Maura's waist.

"Oh, but it could be important," Maura said coquettishly. "Didn't you ask the Sheriff to bring over something of Riley's?"

Jane sat up a little, her hold on Maura loosening up. In everything that had just transpired between them, she had totally forgotten the promise of Riley's gift. In her defense, it had also been quite a while since Korsak had driven back into town, and she'd since gotten distracted. Wondering what had taken so long, she ushered Maura to answer the door, though only after she had grabbed the quilt Angela had sewn for her, which usually lay over the back of the sofa but now rested on her lap, covering her bare legs.

The smile on Maura's face slid off in surprise when she opened the door and saw not Korsak but Joseph Grant. "Deputy!" she gasped.

"Dr. Isles," he said, nodding at her, then at Jane in the distance. "Rizzoli."

"The hell are you doing here?" Jane called over, double-checking to make sure the quilt was securely covering all of her. She snatched the riding crop, lying next to her on the sofa, and quickly pulled it under the quilt as well. Grant would probably find it odd if he were to see it there.

"Nice to see you, too," Grant said with a scowl. He waited for an invitation to come in, but one never came, leaving him awkwardly standing in the doorstep. After a few moments, he removed his hat, raising his eyebrows at Maura, who quickly opened the door a little wider so he could step over the threshold. "The Sheriff asked me to bring over this bag," he said, handing it to Maura. "Apparently, Deputy Rizzoli wanted it."

"Yes, thank you," Jane said abruptly. "You didn't look inside, did ya?"

"No…" Grant said, arching his eyebrow. "So? How've you been?"

"Fine, fine, we're fine," Jane said sharply, wanting nothing more than for him to just get out so she and Maura could keep doing what they'd been doing.

But Maura grinned at Jane over her shoulder, and there was a wicked glint in her eye that Jane didn't feel entirely comfortable with. "How is the Judge's case progressing, Deputy Grant?"

"Well, that's why I'm here instead of the Sheriff," Grant said. "Apparently he got some sort of lead, and he's taking a letter at the moment. Sent me on this little errand."

"Errand accomplished, good job," Jane said.

"You itching to get rid of me, Rizzoli?" Grant asked.

"Yeah," Jane said. She coughed loudly, and Grant missed the suppressed smile on Maura's face. "I ain't feelin' good, see." She coughed again for emphasis.

"I see," Grant said slowly. "I…suppose it's a good thing you live with a doctor, then."

"Sure is," Jane sighed. "Maura takes real good care of me. _Most_ of the time," she muttered as an afterthought, squirming and crossing her legs.

"Perhaps you'd better leave, Deputy," Maura said, trying to look as though the suggestion was not one she was happy to make. "I'd hate for you to catch what's ailing Jane. We'll see you tomorrow in town, I'm sure!"

"Um…all right," Grant mumbled, putting his hat back in place. "I'll be seeing you, then."

"Yes, goodbye," Maura said, waving him off.

Once the door was closed again, Jane groaned loudly. "Thank God; I thought he'd _never _leave!"

"For heaven's sake, Jane, he was hardly here for a minute!" Maura chuckled, bringing the bag over.

"I don't care, that was too long. Get back on your knees in front of me, woman."

Maura had to take a moment to remind herself that she was not supposed to find Jane's commanding tone arousing right now. It was _her_ turn to be one acting the part of disciplinarian, and she was far from finished with Jane. Grant's visit had indeed been short, but the interruption seemed to have been enough to let Jane get off-track, to forget how scintillating she did actually find Maura to be in this situation—her desperation to be satiated had momentarily caused a lapse.

Seeing the crop sticking out from the edge of the quilt (which still covered Jane's lap), Maura pulled it out and in one swift movement, slapped it against her palm. "I don't think I like your tone," she said, twisting the loop of the crop in her hand. Jane straightened abruptly and she didn't get much time to relax, because before she felt quite prepared, Maura was straddling her again, legs spread wider than necessary. "My turn first," she whispered.

* * *

"How did I do?" Maura asked, her tone a mixture of anxiety and excitement.

"Exacting your payback? Not too bad," Jane chuckled, running her good hand up and down Maura's arm.

They sat in relaxed, happy silence for a minute or two, just reveling in the physical sensation of coming down from that tortuous high together. Maura's eyes were closed as she rested her cheek against Jane's shoulder, enjoying the feel of Jane's steady heartbeat beneath her own. It was quiet in the house; no crackling fire, Jo was outside, and Bass was his usual silent self. Used to being alone in the past, Maura was not often put off by quietness, but for Jane, it typically held some sort of foreboding quality. There was an easy silence provided in so many of her moments with Maura, an ease she knew existed only because of the doctor's presence.

There were times now that Jane found herself slipping into what one might call nonchalance, not towards Maura, but towards their relationship. It was so much a part of her life and her being now that she did not stop to appreciate it as much as she used to. Perhaps it was because her physical needs, so long repressed, were now being met frequently, she tended to let the emotional side of things—which had been there almost right from the start, in one way or another—to be taken for granted. It was important to remind herself, to remind Maura, how much Jane loved her, found some way to fall deeper in love nearly every day. It was important to trust her, to tell her everything.

"Maura, you know that idea I had about killing Jake," she said quietly. "With Frost?"

"Yes...you wanted him to collect the reward money from some town who posted it." Pulling back to face Jane, she asked, "Wouldn't that be dishonest?"

"No," Jane reasoned, going for the same argument she had used with Korsak. "Way I see it, we'd be ridding the country of a nightmare. Maybe he could even die yellow, and that'd keep people like my brother from mourning his death too much."

"I see…

"And I figure Riley could help us."

"How, exactly?"

"Well, the only reason she was out there dressed as Jake was she wanted to draw me out. Somebody went and hired her to do just that, and they offered her plenty of money if she was successful. Any woman who needs money bad enough to do somethin' crazy as that? She must really, _really _need it. So I thought maybe she could be in on it, too."

"Let me see if I have this right," Maura said. "This woman, while she may not have been in charge of killing you herself, had no qualms with handing you over to someone _else _to be killed, all for some money. And you want to let her in on the team?"

Jane frowned. "It sounds kinda stupid when you put it like that. But you didn't talk to her, Maura, you didn't see her. She don't wanna be bad, that much I could tell."

"Maybe I should try talking to her," Maura said. "You may be too close to the situation to perceive things clearly. I will say, though, I am not entirely opposed to the notion of killing Jake off once and for all."

"You've thought about it, too?"

"Well, yes," Maura admitted, playing with the frayed collar of Jane's shirt. "I've had nightmares too, Jane. Nightmares about people coming for you, because they'd found out you were Jake, and they wanted to take out their revenge on you. If you ask me, it's still a miracle that you could go so many years without anyone catching on to your secret."

"What can I say? I'm good," Jane said with a shrug, and Maura laughed softly. "You don't have to worry about me, Maura. Honest. I know ya will, but ya don't _have _to. If I go through with this plan, it's gonna be detailed and thought down to the very last second. And won't none of it go if you don't approve every step of the way."

"Good," Maura said with a small smile, giving Jane's collar a light tug. "I just like to feel included. That's all I ask. Speaking of which, are you going to tell me what's in that bag from Riley?"

"Er…" Jane shifted slightly, and Maura got the cue to move off of her. "I ain't sure myself yet," she said, pushing up to her feet. She walked over to wear her pants had been thrown, and struggled into them one-handedly. "And I wanna ask that you at least give me the chance to look at it on my own first, before I show it to ya."

"All right," Maura said curiously. "I suppose I can live with that."

Still, she did not expect Jane to pick up the bag and go to the trouble of moving all the way down in the cellar. But Jane wanted complete privacy the first time she broached this item, whatever it was. She wanted to study it and familiarize herself with it before she ever approached Maura with it, or even told her what she thought it might be. Whatever this was, she had to be sure of it, to know it and live it, to master it, before introducing it to Maura. Jane was not opposed to having her guard down in front of Maura concerning most things, but here, as if ever desperate to make up for her initial stages of ignorance, Jane wanted to be at least in total command and confidence of every step she took.

Fingers trembling in nervous anticipation, Jane struck a match and lit the cellar's solitary lamp before taking a deep breath and ripping open the bag. The first thing she saw was a folded slip of paper, and temporarily grateful for a recognizable object, she snatched it and opened it. It was a letter, taken down in Riley's surprisingly good hand:

"_Jane, Jake, whoever you are—_

_I am not sure I know or want to know why you desired this object, but here you are. It was given to me when I was practicing my act as Jake Wyatt, just in the beginning stages—seeing if I could pass for a man. I met a woman from Europe who had brought this curious device with her to the States as some sort of companion piece. She claims it was prescribed by a doctor to cure her "hysteria," and she later added the harness of her own volition. From what I gathered, she wanted me to use it on her. I told her I would, but I merely stole it and ran off before I ever touched her. I had hoped wearing it would help me feel more like a man, but I still haven't entirely gotten accustomed to the feeling of it. I would venture to say that it takes some getting used to. My point is that I cannot honestly tell you what to expect from it if you were to use it for anything more strenuous._

_Riley Cooper"_

Though there were a couple of words in there that Jane could not for the life of her define, she certainly wasn't desperate enough to go running up to Maura and ask for vocabulary help. Besides, the message itself was loud and clear, and that was all that mattered. Jane hurriedly folded the paper into fourths, then stuck it in her pocket before returning the bag.

She reached inside and grabbed hold of what had to be the harness Riley had described. A noticeable weight was attached to it as she pulled upwards, and her breath caught when she could finally see the entirety of it in the lamplight.

The harness was made out of the finest brown leather Jane had ever seen, surely expensive and carefully crafted. She cursed inwardly at the sight of two buckles which would be extremely difficult to do with only one hand, which according to Maura's prognosis, was all she had to offer for the next four weeks. But what (literally) stuck out the most about the item was a long, thick extension of what appeared to be black leather. Jane ran one finger down its length and felt a corresponding shiver up her spine as she pressed down and felt that the material was firm. Her jaw had fallen open, she realized only as she had to close it in order to swallow hard.

Forcing her hand to remain steady, Jane held the harness and its attachment over her crotch. With no mirror in the cellar, her only view was to look straight down, and dimly she recognized that her breathing had become shallow. She pictured Maura standing in front of her, perhaps pushed against a wall, taking the leather inside her. Jane took two steps, maintaining the placement of the large accessory, before she collapsed into a chair. The move was not done by choice; she was shaking from head to foot, and dropped her hold on the harness.

Jane put her face in her good hand and wept.

This was a strange sensation: in her past experience, you cried because you were happy or you were sad. Whatever instigated the tears was obvious. As she sat there futilely wiping at her eyes, it took Jane a minute to even try figuring out what exactly had prompted her tears just now. It wasn't that she felt particularly happy or sad because of Riley's gift; she supposed it was a lot at once.

She reflected on the fact that so much of how she acted, even how she perceived herself, had changed after Maura had happily, eagerly accepted Jane as her life partner. For what felt like the first time in her life, Jane had roots she wanted to stay close to: she was done hiding her identity behind a fake name, be it Jake Wyatt or Jane Johnson. She was done wishing she was a man just for the sake of society's acceptance of her outspoken, unrestrained behavior. And even now, after thinking about Tommy's impending unearned fatherhood, after she had talked out all of her feelings with Maura, Jane no longer wished she was a man for the sake of what it meant she could physically help bring to pass.

One thing remained constant: over the course of her entire life, she had never been able to picture a romantic future with a man. Not physically, not emotionally, not in any way. She had never given much thought about why this was; she just accepted it about herself the same way she accepted that she did not seem to fall into any sort of feminine mold. Was it because she related so much to men, that she could only see them as friends? Companions on the road, but not anywhere intimate? Was she afraid? Could she have ever been a blushing bride?

Well, the answer to that last question was obvious. Maura had made her one. Maura had bravely stepped up, had been so patient, had given up so much for this relationship. She could have been Mrs. Fairfield, she could have married any number of men once Garrett left, and yet she had chosen to spend a lifetime with another woman instead.

Maura was the first person who had ever made Jane Rizzoli truly feel at home in her own skin. Her natural curves were slight to begin with and not something she typically tried to accentuate, but she loved how Maura's hands felt sliding down them. Any true curiosity about what it would feel like to have hair grow on her face was ebbed away by how much she loved the feeling Maura's soft fingers stroking her ever-bare, ever-smooth cheeks. Her breasts were an asset she had also often tried to hide away, until she knew how it felt to have Maura's lips and hands on them. She thought about the fact that while Maura was indisputably the more feminine of them, she was the one who wielded the most energy, the most overt desire, in bed.

But mostly what she thought about as she sat alone in the cellar, tears mostly subsided, was how Maura Isles was the first person to truly make Jane see how superior Jane Rizzoli was to Jake in every possible way.

Once she had calmed down a bit, she looked back at the harness and its attachment. She laughed. She wasn't sure what exactly she had been expecting, but there it was. Probably not an exact replica, but a clear imitation of what it was substituting. Not in her most extreme imagination could Jane have pictured a device like this actually existing, and the thought of actually using it on Maura first worried but then excited her. It seemed like the best of both worlds: she could still have Maura clawing at her back, calling out her name, wrapped around her waist-but now Jane would have full use of both her hands, as well. This in particular was something she yearned to experience, despite treasuring the privilege of using something as unremarkable as her scarred hand to touch Maura's most intimate part, sending them both headlong into spasms of ecstasy. But this thing, here, it could open up new doors for them, new ways to be close and a part of each other.

Jane realized tears were leaking out of her eyes again. This was all overwhelming. It was a relief, but it was also intimidating.

One thing was certain: it would be an adventure.

* * *

The next morning, Maura awoke to find Jane had already gone in for work. Two pillows were propped up on her side of the bed, and as Maura groggily thought back, she figured that had been the most comfortable way for Jane to sleep with her arm in a sling. Come to think of it, she couldn't even remember Jane coming to bed last night.

She had gone to the cellar and not returned right away, a clear if tacit sign that she was not to be disturbed. Maura had waited patiently, then slightly impatiently, then finally gone to bed, figuring Jane would be up any minute. Apparently she had fallen asleep waiting, and now Jane had come and gone. Maura was burning to know what Riley had sent, what had kept Jane downstairs for so long, but she did not allow herself to betray Jane's trust and go investigating. In time, she was sure, Jane would talk to her—perhaps even later today.

For her part, Jane was already with Korsak, discussing plausible leads in the case of the Judge's murder. Grant was out patrolling the Judge's part of town, and Frankie was on guard duty of the cells. Riley was still locked up in the cell that was inside Korsak's actual office, wondering just how long she was going to have to stay there for the crime of impersonating an outlaw. She did ask Jane if she had gotten the bag, to which Jane curtly replied "yes" before turning to Korsak and ignoring Riley from there on out.

Her session with Korsak was interrupted when the double doors swung open to reveal none other than Barold Frost. With a delighted holler, Jane leapt out of her chair and ran at him, throwing her free arm around his shoulders and yanking him into a tight if awkward embrace.

"Frost, you poor soul, I was startin' to worry I'd never see ya again!" she laughed.

"Hey partner, I told ya I'd be home!" he responded, giving her back a strong pat. "And what've you gone and done to yourself in the meantime, hm? Break your arm?"

"Maura says it's fractured," Jane scoffed, stepping back. "Say, you look good, Frost! Real good!"

He grinned when Korsak concurred. Being on the road for most of his life had meant that like Jane, Frost was rarely nicely dressed. Unlike Jane, in the past few months, he had not had a fashion-conscious best friend to frequently dress him up, until now. He wore a crimson-colored pinstriped suit, tempered by the darkness of his skin and a dark grey vest. Even his cowboy's hot had been traded in for something more resembling a bowler, also grey in color, and tilted gaily on his head.

"It's all Anna's doing," he said. "She's a full-fledged member of the garment industry."

"She with ya?" Jane asked excitedly.

"She's out in the back with a passenger we picked up in Mesa," Frost explained. Looking at Korsak, he said, "Anna heard the dogs and had to see 'em. What kind?"

"German shepherds," Korsak replied. "Come on out and take a look for yourself, Frost!"

"I've got the little black one, though," Jane claimed quickly.

"So if you and Anna want one, you've still got three puppies and the bitch to choose from," Korsak said, leading his two deputies outside and around the back of the building. He and Frost did not hesitate in walking up to Anna and their unexpected passenger, but Jane had halted in her tracks.

"Just the one bitch back here then, huh, Korsak?" she asked in a biting tone, sticking her hand in her pocket and walking stiffly forward. When Korsak threw her a questioning look, she glared darkly at the imperious-looking woman standing between Frost and Anna. "Frost, you shoulda known better than to pick up trash like that."

"Jane, do you know who this is?" Frost asked, looking confused.

Jane's response was a snarl: "You bet I do."

"Someone wanna fill me in, here?" Korsak asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Certainly, Sheriff," the woman agreed. Holding out her hand, she said, "My name is Constance Isles, and I believe my daughter is the resident doctor of your charming town."

* * *

**A/N**: I realize I kinda threw a twist in there at the end, but this is a chapter I really would appreciate feedback on...

To address some general concerns, also: It's not really my intent to make Jane come off as trans, which I thought I had gone into well enough, but I guess perhaps not. She's not feminine, of course, but that doesn't mean I'm going to have her wearing that strap-on all day every day now. It's just that: a strap-on. To be used in bed (occasionally) when she's ready for it. Gender definitions seem sharp enough today, I know, but they were much more strict back then, which is part of why I decided to make an explosive character like Jane cross-dress (like Calam herself). Also, take note of the chapter title ...and by the way, if you've seen Skyfall (the newest James Bond movie), that's where I got my inspiration for this shaving scene. That's really it! It wasn't meant as anything more than that.

And Jane's on bad terms with Constance because the woman ditched them in Boston after leaving them alone to discover Maura's true family history, which was quite a bomb. That was a while ago, so I can totally understand why people would have forgotten it, haha :)


	30. Outlaws for In-Laws

**A/N**: Sorry it took so long to update this! Christmas break has been a bit distracting :) Anyway, thank you for all the constructive feedback on that last chapter. I really, really appreciated it. (For anyone who didn't see, a few paragraphs were added to further explain Jane's, um, encounter with that strap-on.) Back to business!

* * *

Before Korsak could get too chummy with their town's new guest, Jane barked, "What the hell are you doin' here, Constance?"

"Jane, what's the matter with you?" Korsak asked, slapping her upside the head. "Mind your manners in front of a lady like this!"

"Oh, I don't mind, Sheriff," Constance said, the glint in her eyes belying her sugary tone of voice. "Jane and I have some unfinished business to attend to. Where might we go for some privacy?"

"Follow me," Jane grumbled, turning on her heel and stalking away.

As Constance followed Jane down the street, Frost watched them go and then burst out laughing. When Korsak raised an eyebrow at him, Frost nodded at Anna and said, "I'm just glad I seem to get along with my mother-in-law a helluva lot better than Jane does with hers."

Jane was stalking past the outdoor cells of the Sheriff's office, not caring whether Constance would be comfortable passing by a bunch of criminal, mostly lecherous men. Grant was standing guard and tipped his hat at them, but Jane paid him no mind as she just kept on moving. Past the cells was a bare stretch of land with no fence around it—nothing had ever seemed to grow there, and nobody had ever built anything on it. In lieu of walking all the way to the corral on the other side of town, it seemed to Jane like the best place to have a conversation with someone in private.

"Okay, Constance, let's stop for a second," Jane said, coming to an abrupt halt and turning to face the other woman. "And let's review: you ran out on us."

"I left," Constance admitted. "Abruptly."

"You skipped town to avoid having to face your own daughter," Jane continued, her voice and features harsh. "Do you have any idea how heartbroken you left her?"

"I'm sure she was fine if she had you around to console her."

"Don't talk to me like that! I want to know what the hell brought you here, and what exactly the hell you plan on saying to Maura. Because I ain't lettin' you get within twenty feet of her if all you're gonna do is drop a stick of dynamite and then run off before it blows up!"

"Jane—"

"And don't you try to shut me up, or placate me, or anything else! You _knew_ Patrick Doyle went into Maura's childhood home and snatched her, and you still couldn't tell Maura to her face that you were sorry? You took the coward's way out and left her a letter when you coulda stepped up and been the mother she always hoped you would! Chrissake… between you and Doyle, it's a miracle Maura's turned out to be the decent, honest person she is."

"I can appreciate that you are angry with me," Constance said in a level voice. "I will not deny that I had it coming. But I need to speak with Maura."

"Like hell you do! I'll be damned before I let you cause even a touch more damage to the woman who means more to me than anyone else on this earth."

Constance folded her hands in front of her, still frustratingly calm. "I understand your sentiments, Jane. And I am glad Maura has found someone who feels so strongly about her, I truly am. But what would you have me do? Return to France now without a word, essentially disappearing from my daughter's life for God knows how long? Is that what you'd rather? If I leave now, on these terms, Maura may never speak to me again."

Jane's eyes narrowed. "That'd be fine by me," she said, practically spitting the words out, "but it's Maura's choice, not mine."

"I agree. Where might I see her?"

"You ain't seein' her until I tell her you're here," Jane said. "I don't want you just showin' up and upsetting her without no warning. Fair?"

"Fair."

Jane's brow contracted and she took a step back. "What exactly were ya doin' in Mesa, anyhow?"

"I told you and Maura in Boston that I'd planned on coming West for a visit. An aspiring protégé of mine has been out here, and I'd like to tell Maura to keep an eye out for him. Don't worry," she hastened to add, noting the brief, suspicious narrowing of Jane's eyes. "Only as a friend."

"Is that all you wanna talk to her about?"

Despite Jane's tough deputy persona being on full blast, Constance did not feel intimidated enough into revealing everything: "It's between my daughter and I, Jane."

Jane's lip curled and she started back in towards town, knowing Constance would be behind her. "I'm gonna go talk to Maura first, see if she even wants to see ya. Until I come back with an answer for ya, you're to stay in the Sheriff's office."

"Are you putting me under arrest, deputy?"

Constance could only hear the scowl in Jane's voice: "No, I just wanna know where exactly you'll be when I come to find ya, and you're less likely to cause any trouble if ya stick in one place." When they had reached the prison cells again, it was to see that Frost, Anna, and Korsak were still standing outside the Sheriff's office by the pen of dogs. The mother was uncharacteristically asleep. "Korsak," Jane called out, pointing to the small wooden fence. "Little black one. Hand him over."

"Oh, but he's mine!" Anna teased her, grabbing Frost's arm and pulling him close.

The joke finally got a small smile out of Jane, and she held her hand out for Anna to shake. "Been a long time, Anna Ferrell. Good to see you again."

"Good to be with you both again," Anna returned. "I couldn't hardly believe it when Frost said you and he had both been hired as deputies. What a wonderfully forward-thinking little town this is." She glanced at Korsak, who was now holding a squirming black puppy. "Er, pardon me Sheriff. A wonderfully forward-thinking _enormous_ town!"

"That's more like it," he laughed, handing the puppy over to Jane.

"We'll have to talk later," Jane said to Anna. "I'm afraid I've got something to attend to at the moment. Korsak, would you mind, uh, keepin' an eye on Constance till I get back?"

"It would be my pleasure."

Without giving Constance so much as a backwards glance, Jane walked straight on. The puppy was squirming even more in her arms, far from being as agreeable as Jo Friday had been. But the sharp little claws digging fearfully at her body were not off-putting to someone who was accustomed to receiving much worse. The trick was that she had one arm useless in a sling, and the other was preoccupied with the puppy, which would make mounting her horse a difficult task. She called out to Frankie, who was keeping an eye on Riley in the Sheriff's office, and he came dutifully outside to help Jane with the animals. Once she had successfully climbed on top of her horse, she reached out her good arm for the puppy, and laughed darkly to herself once Frankie handed it over.

"What's so funny?" he asked curiously.

She shrugged. "Just that I must be gettin' soft. There used to be days when I'd have both arms injured and could still jump on a horse with 'em both full."

"Mm…yeah. Say, Jane—Korsak's keeping quiet about what this Riley Cooper is doing locked up here. Know anything about her?"

Recognizing the hopeful gleam in her brother's eye, Jane said, "Yeah, that she's off-limits," before giving the horse a squeeze and powering ahead. The jet black dog started to whimper, but Jane kept a firm grip, wishing she could tell him something reassuring and know he'd understand. As it was, when they finally reached Jane and Maura's house, he bit Jane's finger and tried to make a jump for it. Jane cursed under her breath and the horse nearly reared with the discomfort of Jane's leg slipping up towards its neck as she tried to keep her hold on the puppy. "C'mon, Magnum, steady!"

At the sound of the ruckus outside, Maura, who had been just about to leave, hurried onto the porch. She ran down the steps towards Jane, holding the reins of the horse steady so Jane could more easily dismount. This much closer to the ground, the puppy tried to take another bite at Jane before pushing out of her grip and landing on the ground.

He might very well have been about to run off when Maura's voice cracked like a whip and got him to freeze: "_Jethro Magnum Fletcher_, you get back here right now!" What she had initially considered a victory vanished quickly as the puppy stared at her, then began to simply wander aimlessly. "So," she sighed, hands on her hips as she turned to look at Jane. "You've finally brought him home."

"Jethro, huh?" Jane asked. "Boy, I guess I _did _say you could name him. Where'd ya get that one from?"

"He was a naval officer who knew my father," Maura answered. "He was a man of few words, but commanded plenty of respect, and he was always kind to me."

"And Fletcher?"

Maura smiled. "An older woman in my childhood community, who sadly passed away before you ever had the chance to meet her. I think she and Adelaide would have gotten along quite well."

"Jethro Magnum Fletcher," Jane repeated. "Huh."

"Not too awful?" Maura asked hopefully.

Jane smiled at her. "Not too awful. Let's just see if we can get him to stick around long enough for the name to hold." She whistled, and Magnum turned in her direction, looking wary. "Go on, Maura, give it a try." Looking doubtful, Maura took a turn at whistling, and the dog came scampering over. "Well, I guess I can see who's gonna be alpha in _this _house," Jane chuckled. As they started up the porch steps, Magnum went bounding ahead, waited impatiently for Maura to open the door, and then burst inside.

"I was just on my way out for the day," Maura said. "What brought you back home? Just dropping off the newest addition of our family?"

Jane's smile faded, and she walked over to park herself on the couch. "No."

Maura tensely followed her, sitting next to Jane and putting a hand delicately on her knee. "Jane, what is it?"

"There ain't really an easy way to say this, so I'm just gonna come out and say it," Jane said. But when she looked Maura in the eye, her lips clamped shut of their own accord and no words came out.

"Jane, you're starting to worry me…"

"Your mother's here."

Maura stared at her in shock for a few moments, searching Jane's expression for any signs that this might have just been a joke. "My—"

"Your mother is here," Jane repeated, enunciating her words a little more carefully. She took hold of Maura's hand, squeezing it tightly. "She said there was a chance she'd come by, remember? And it so happened she was in Mesa, and I guess needed a way to get here, and Frost and Anna were passin' through, so she got a ride with them."

"Anna? Frost's girl?"

"His wife now, I think."

"Oh, wonderful," Maura said, latching on to the brief distraction from her nervously thumping heart.

"Yeah, it is… uh, Maura? She—well, Constance said she wants to talk to ya. Goes without sayin', I guess. But I just—I dunno, I wanted to break it to ya first, I guess."

"I'm glad you did," Maura said a little breathlessly. "I'm glad you did, Jane. Mostly because—" Her voice became thick with sudden emotion, but she managed to withhold her tears long enough for a deep breath to add, "I don't want her in my house—_our _house—until she has sincerely apologized for running off with no word."

"Okay," Jane said gently. "Where do ya want to meet her, then?"

"I don't know, some place we can be alone. A room in Angela's tavern, perhaps?"

Jane grinned wryly. "Sure, why not? Give our mothers the chance to get to know each other!"

As it transpired, their mothers didn't need to wait for their daughters to introduce them. Angela had come by the Sheriff's office to bring Frankie a sandwich, and could not help noticing the classy stranger standing near Korsak's desk. Korsak could think of no reason to lie when Angela asked for an introduction. Sparing a glance for their new guest, Korsak stood up and said, "Of course. Angela, meet Mrs. Constance Isles."

Constance regally extended her hand, and Angela touched it briefly, feeling more like a country mouse than she ever had in her entire life. And then the name registered. "_Isles?_"

"I take it by your tone that you are familiar with my daughter," Constance said, smiling proudly.

"You're—you're Maura's mother?"

"I am."

"I'm…"

Angela faltered, and Korsak stepped in for her: "Angela's been like a mother to the Rizzoli family since their own mother died."

"Oh, you're Jane's adoptive mother," Constance said.

"You know Jane?" Angela asked, voice tight.

"Yes, I've had the pleasure on more than one occasion," Constance said.

Korsak looked back and forth between the two of them, wondering if either was aware of the strength of the relationship between their daughters. Angela was on a similar wavelength, trying to figure out if Constance would be speaking to her in such a pleasant, pleased demeanor if she knew what exactly Jane was doing with Constance's equally refined daughter. Meanwhile Constance remembered immediately that, upon asking Maura if anyone in town knew the true nature of her relationship with Jane, she had replied that Jane's adoptive mother did know—and judging by the fearful look on her face, she was not entirely at ease with it.

_Perhaps talking things through with her could redeem me in Jane's eyes. _

Figuring the Sheriff was still in the dark, Constance said, "Angela. I would adore the chance for a conversation with you."

Angela's eyebrows shot up. "With me?"

"Of course! After _all_ Maura's told me about Jane, I'd be utterly remiss if I didn't snatch the opportunity to engage her mother."

And something about her tone made Angela instantly realize Constance knew full well what was going on. Standing tall as she could, Angela offered, "My place is just down the street. We could talk there."

"Let's."

And Korsak let them go, not realizing Jane's intent had been for him to keep Constance on a short leave while she was gone—he figured so long as she was with someone from town, Constance wouldn't get lost, which he mistakenly assumed had been Jane's concern. Angela felt a little uncomfortable bringing such a refined-looking gentlewoman into her tavern, but once inside, tried to act as though she could not see the drunk sleeping at a table in the corner or that one mysterious stain nobody had been able to clean off the floor. She kicked a carpet over it as she led Constance up the stairs, ultimately leading to her private quarters.

"This is your establishment?" Constance asked, removing her hat once the door was closed.

"Yeah—yes. It's not much, I know, but…"

"On the contrary, it's very impressive," Constance said, although her tone remained passively level. "But, Angela, if you'll allow me to be frank. I'm sure you're used to directness, having watched Jane grow up, and well, as the Bard once said, 'brevity is the soul of wit,' so I will get right to it. Maura has told me that you are aware of the… unique circumstance she finds herself in with Jane."

"Aware, yes," Angela sighed, sitting down on the corner of her bed and looking at the floor. This was not a subject she had ever anticipated discussing with anyone besides Jane and Maura.

"I take it you're not entirely pleased with the situation."

"And you are?" Angela asked, sounding somewhat skeptical. It was still hard enough to believe sometimes that Maura had disavowed so much of her upbringing for a life with someone like Jane; it was difficult to picture a high society lady like Constance giving the relationship her blessing. But Angela was about to learn that where Constance Isles was concerned, there was more than met the eye.

She at least appeared to thoughtfully consider the question Angela had involuntarily, responsively, asked. "I am. I am pleased. And here is why." From her sleeve she produced a small, folded piece of paper. Opening it, she explained, "This is a note Jane gave to me when all of us were in Boston. Their relationship had just been made privy to me, and I was having a private conversation with my daughter about it. During that time, Jane wrote this. The spelling is not exactly stellar, but I am able to follow it well enough." Clearing her throat and giving the paper a final flourish, she read, "'Constance –

"'I do not wish to brag. But look at your daughter and tell me she is not happy, she is not smart, she is not wonderful. It is easy to see she is each of those, but I can take only some of the credit for bringing her some of that happiness. I have given her less than she has given me. I would swim an ocean for your daughter. I would walk to the ends of the earth for her. I would protect her life with my own. As I am not a mother myself I cannot honestly say I know what a mother would want. But I think I would want to know my child was loved and treasured by another soul. Yours is—and she always will be, by me. I consider that a privilege and an honor.'"

These were sentiments Angela had essentially already been told, but there was something about hearing Constance relate them that brought on fresh tears. She put a hand to her heart, reeling from the fact that Jane—who had always been so guarded with her emotions, even towards her own family—had poured out her soul to this woman, to the mother of the person she loved so fiercely. And furthermore, Jane was right about what it meant, in Angela's experience, to be a parent: the best gift you could ask for is that your child will find someone to cherish them above all else. None of it was turning out as she had expected, but when had Jane ever been one to conform?

"I have always encouraged Maura to follow her heart," Constance said, tucking the note away again. "And yet for years, she resisted. I could tell she held herself back, for propriety's sake. It is my understanding that she is still a lady, but for where it really matters most, she has followed her heart."

"I wonder if I've always done the opposite with Jane," Angela mused aloud. "I've always loved her, but always hoped she would…" She trailed off, trying to think of the right word. Apparently both she and Constance had hoped their daughters would change, but for different reasons. "I guess I hoped she'd follow in someone's footsteps like my own. But Jane's foraged her own path from day one. And it's funny, Mrs. Isles…"

"Constance, please."

"Constance. It's funny. Every time I think about what Jane and Maura are doing, I have this _reaction_, this sort of feeling of dread. But then …it passes. It just goes. Because what Jane said is true, and what you've said is true—they're happy. They're safe." She sighed heavily and stood up again, fully meeting Constance's gaze. "That's all I ever wanted most for Jane. I should've known she'd do it all on her own terms."

"If it's any consolation, Maura has—"

A harried knock sounded at the door, and both women looked over at it. Angela waved her hand, prepared to just whoever it was go, but then Maura's voice reached them through the door: "Mother, Angela, please. Open up."

Angela quickly stepped over to oblige, wondering why Constance didn't look more surprised. "Why darling, you've found us," she said. "I must say, that was quicker than I expected."

This was easily the most harried Angela had ever seen the typically-composed doctor look. "Angela, would you mind excusing us?" she asked in a thin voice.

"Why don't I just head downstairs," Angela suggested, placing her hand gently on Maura's shoulder. "You two stay here as long as you need to."

A loud silence passed after Angela left them, but Constance quickly talked over it: "Where is your white knight, Maura?"

"Reprimanding the Sheriff for letting you out of his sight."

"And yet here I am," Constance said, lifting her hands. "You've found me."

Maura shook her head, looking more upset than sad or confused. "What are you doing here, mother?"

"First and foremost, I am here to apologize," Constance said softly. In an instant, her façade of gentility gave way to sincerity, but she kept the small distance she had from Maura. "You and Jane have every right to be upset with me. As Jane put it, I left you with a lit keg of dynamite and ran off, when I should have thrown myself on top of it for you." She shrugged half-heartedly, looking solemn. "I tried to tell you, Maura. I am not always so brave as some people would think. My cowardice has been mistaken for selfishness in the past, and it most likely will in the future, also."

"And the present?"

"You tell me." When Maura did not respond, Constance said, "Letting you know about your true heritage was the most frightening thing I have ever done, Maura. I felt more intimidated than I did even when I learned I was carrying Patrick Doyle's child. That is how much I feared telling you. Desmond Isles, great man that he was, feared it also. That is why he could not bring himself to tell you in life, though I know he felt guilty throughout for never being honest with you. That is why he wanted you to know. He thought it was the right thing to do."

The last sentence came out somewhat defensively, as if Constance still wasn't sure whether it was a wise idea or not. "Do you agree?" Maura pressed her.

She partially dodged the question. "Patrick worried harm might come to you if anyone were to find out you were his daughter. We thought it would most likely be best if you were made aware of your lineage in case anything ever _did _happen …so you would at least know why."

Maura took a slight breath, resting her white-gloved hands on her waist and pacing around the small room, gaze glued to the floor. She hated how much this reminded her of her childhood: she would be restless, nervous, anxious, and all the while her mother would always seem to wield some sort of other-worldly calm. She was always enviably composed, belying her true nature of being a minuteman in the realm of leisure: always up for anything.

Finally, Maura stopped a few paces away from her mother and caught her gaze. "It was a lot to take in," she said heavily. "You must have known the trip was emotionally exhausting enough for me already, just having to further contemplate father's death, and then to throw this into the mix! Not only to learn my real father abandoned me, but that he was a wanted criminal! How could you have left me alone with that knowledge?"

"You weren't alone," Constance quietly argued. "Jane was with you."

"And thank God for that," Maura muttered. "But she shouldn't have had to help me pick up the pieces by myself."

She sounded sincere in her reply. "You're right, Maura, and I _am_ sorry. It's—never come easily to me, being a proper mother."

"You don't have to tell me that," Maura said with conviction, while also sounding defeated somehow. It was the harsh truth, and considering the hurt Constance had recently dealt her, Maura had not felt the need to keep on her polite, kid gloves. "But this doesn't apply solely to being a mother, you know. It's as simple as being a decent person."

Constance laughed mirthlessly. "I'm even worse at that, Maura. You should know that by now."

"Hm. Perhaps I should."

"Maura, please."

"What?"

"I came here to offer myself to you before I return to France. I know it is impossible in your eyes for me to redeem myself entirely for what I've hid from you and how I've acted, but if I could just offer a little help in any small way…."

Maura furrowed her brow. "Help with what?"

Constance sighed, and when she delicately touched Maura's arm, Maura did pull away. "I know how it feels," she said, her voice almost unrecognizably soft. "How it feels to be in a relationship you can tell no one about. I know it's not exactly the same, because so far as I know, Jane is a law-abiding citizen and your—well, _friendship, _at least is not kept private, but… the, well, private aspects are entirely unknown by anyone excepting Angela, who does not seem particularly anxious to discuss the details of your relationship with you. Is that correct?"

"Most likely, yes, that is a fair reading of her response," Maura admitted. "But Jane told me the Sheriff recently acknowledged our relationship as well."

She had expected that to at least get a raised eyebrow or two, but Constance remained ever unflappable. "Really?" she asked curiously. "But would you feel comfortable in going to him for relationship advice?"

Maura's expression became increasingly confused. "No…"

"Well, my dear, that is what I would like to offer you now," Constance said. "Not necessarily advice, per se, but a willing ear at least. When Patrick and I were seeing each other, I was happy most of the time. I was satisfied, despite the pressure of having to hide it all from my family and the town. But there were frustrations that came with it, as there is with any relationship. I would get upset, I would be scared, I would be angry about Patrick, and I had _nobody _to talk to about it."

"You mean you couldn't talk to him?" Maura asked.

Constance's smile was pitying. "Maura. Hasn't there ever be anything about Jane—a trait or a habit, perhaps—that drove you mad, but you didn't want to bring up with her? Perhaps because you thought she would blow it out of proportion, or you were uncertain how deeply the issue truly bothered you? For the first time in my life, I found myself becoming jealous of the women around in me in Boston while I was with Patrick. I envied the freedom they had to gossip together about their beaux or their husbands. I envied them for having the ability to weep on their mother's knee about heartbreak, or frustration, just having the chance to vent." She shrugged. "I had no one I could tell. Everything was bottled up inside of me, and it made me feel ill. It would have been such a help, such a comfort, if I'd had someone I could confide in." She held out her arms, and dressed in light blue and white, she very nearly resembled a celestial being designed for providing consolation. "I would like to offer my services to you in that regard, Maura: as someone who will listen if you would like to talk."

A beat passed and Maura suddenly found herself encircled by her mother's arms. She took a shuddering breath but did not cry, as this feeling of being overwhelmed with surprises was something she was beginning to get accustomed to. First the shock of her mother being in town, of having _sought her out_, while having to deal with the true pain she'd felt at being abandoned in Boston. But Constance had been as ever straightforward in apologizing, and while Maura still felt small waves of hurt lapping over her at the thought of what she considered a betrayal, she could not help being moved by her mother's offer.

Much of that had to do with the simple fact that it was as Constance said: there was nobody else Maura could ever talk to about this. While it was certainly true that she and her mother did not have the most warm relationship, it had at least always been candid, and Constance had already made it known that she saw no need to discourage Maura's relationship with Jane. She inhaled shakily again as Constance gave her back a tender pat, and it dimly occurred to Maura how unusual it was for them to be this close.

"I do get frustrated now and then," she said in a nervous, mouse-like voice. "But only because Jane—oh, I can't say it."

"You can, Maura. Go ahead."

"I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I love her, mother, I love her so much I…"

"Never mind with the superlatives," Constance said patiently. "That message has been sent, I assure you. What's bothering you?"

"She's so self-deprecating," was how Maura decided to put it. "I worry about her sometimes. Even when we were only friends, she admitted concerns that she and her family were not worthy of my time, that I ought to be among neighbors who were more like myself. So you can imagine that self-doubt has only increased when our relationship deepened. One remark can send her reeling, or to the bottle, and it's as though no matter what I say, she cannot sustain the belief that she is more than good enough for me. That she is _perfect _for me."

Constance took a deep breath herself, encouraging Maura to do the same. "Well," she exhaled. "I can see how it could get tiresome to—"

"But wouldn't you consider that questioning my judgment?" Now that Maura had started, she was finding it difficult to stop. "I have told her time and again how much I need her, and she says she trusts me, but then she just goes off and…"

"Ah. I see. Would you like me to broach this issue with her?"

"What? No! Goodness, _no! _What would you even say?"

"I would tell her it sounds like she is consistently on the verge of caving to fear," Constance replied. "And that must seem strange to you, to both of you, as her occupation of choice is quite dangerous—yet she tackles it fearlessly. But she cannot exhibit fear towards her own perceived inadequacy for you, Maura. Do you know why? Because fear is the opposite of faith."

Maura blinked and stepped back, looking her mother in the eye. "What did you say?"

"I said fear is the opposite of faith," Constance repeated, liking the sound of the words as she spoke them. "She needs to remember that her faith must override any fears or anxieties that she has."

"I'm afraid, too, mother."

"Of what?"

"How do you… how were able to… be with someone whose life was constantly in danger?" Maura asked nervously, not particularly reassured by the solemn look on her mother's face. "Some days, some nights, I can feel fear gnawing at me from the inside-out. I worry she won't make it home. I worry she'll be brutally injured, and there will be nothing I can do, or that I'll be too late."

"That is a frightening notion," Constance agreed. "And, as you say, one that I struggled with as well. In my days with Patrick I was younger than you are now, and I felt that initial sense of intrigue and glamor towards his ways. But I remember a sobering incident where he was horribly wounded, and I was one of the last to learn about it. I was never quite the same around him after that, because I was always worried."

"And that…didn't bother him? I often feel as though Jane gets exasperated with my concern, or that she's about to."

"Then let her know in ways that she won't find objectionable," Constance suggested. "Never ever let her leave without telling her goodbye, that you love her. Do what you can for her comfort when she is with you, but allow her the blessing to serve you, as well. Find a confidant once I have left Arizona, if you can. If you ask me, though, you are one step ahead of where I was."

"How do you mean?"

Constance sighed, wondering if she should have offered to divulge that. She figured Maura had endured enough at this point, she could take a little more. "I fell in love with Patrick. I don't think he was ever as much in love with me." The confession hung in the air between them for a few moments, and Constance almost wished she hadn't said it—Maura looked even more hurt that her birth father hadn't felt too strongly about her mother. "My point," she said quickly, "is that it is clear Jane more than reciprocates your feelings for her. That is a gift, Maura."

"I know," Maura whispered.

Constance nodded. "I knew you did. Now." She cleared her throat, lifting her chin slightly. The urge to cry had suddenly descended upon her, but she would not cave. Not in front of her daughter. "Had there been a… ceremony of sorts which I could have attended, I would have brought a gift. Gifts, perhaps, for you and Jane. Would you kindly escort me back downstairs, and pick out Jane's favorite brand of ale? Bring a bottle of it to her, and see if that would make her any more or less willing to forgive me as I attempt to move forward and help the two of you in any way that I can."

"Jane isn't always quick to forgive," Maura said. "And …I suppose I would still be more upset with you if, on some level, I had been more shocked by your sudden departure from Boston. I do not mean any offense, but after I'd given it some thought…"

"It didn't seem to out of character?" Constance guessed.

"I suppose."

"Hopefully this bald-faced attempt to buy Jane's affection won't seem so, either," Constance said, trying to lighten the mood a little, and she thought she saw the shadow of a smile on Maura's face. "Come downstairs, Maura. Pick me a bottle to buy."

"Very well," Maura said. _But I can't guarantee I will bring it to Jane without drinking half of it first._


	31. Two For the Road

**A/N**: Phew! Sorry it's been a while since I've updated anything - the holidays have been jam-packed with crazy business that I wouldn't have traded for anything :) I hope everyone's New Year has been great so far!

* * *

Adelaide had been alive too long to take things such as missed appointments seriously, or at the very least, personally. Still, she had never once known Dr. Isles to renege on a meeting, and Adelaide was only glad it hadn't been a medical one. Although it wasn't quite dark yet, supper time had long passed, and Adelaide decided to take it upon herself to trudge up to the far side of town to pay Maura a visit herself. Borrowing her employer's carriage, Adelaide attached it to one of the oldest horses known to mankind and made her way over to Jane and Maura's home.

She had expected that Maura might still be alone at this hour, but she had not expected Maura to open the door and be quite obviously drunk.

The first thing Adelaide said was, "Ah."

"Addie!" Maura giggled, pulling the elderly woman inside. She was dressed only in a sleeveless white camisole with a white slip over her pantalets; her hair was down, and she might have just been on her way to bed. "Come in, come in! We were just talking about you."

Adelaide's eyes scanned the empty room. "'We'?"

"We what?"

"You just said…oh dear, I see I ought to come back another time."

Maura stepped in front of her when Adelaide appeared to be heading back for the door. "No, no, please stay! You must stay, I insist! Perhaps I could scrounge up some tea for you?"

"That won't be necessary, Maura. I only came by because you had said earlier that you intended to stop by for—"

With an overdramatic groan, Maura screwed her eyes shut and threw herself against the wall. "Oh, wretch! It passed my mind completely, I'm afraid! I've had an awful day, Addie, truly. My mother is here. She's staying at Angela's tavern, in fact."

"Yes, I'd heard that. Word spreads quickly around this town. I'd like to meet her, if I may."

"No!" Maura gasped, her voice unusually low. "No, Addie, my mother is a terrible person! I love her and she loves me in her way, but she will not be nice to you. She's not nice to anyone, not really. She wasn't nice to my father and she's not nice to my other father, and she wasn't quite nice to me as a child, and she never liked Garrett, and I guess she _does _like Jane, because she bought her this…" Maura reached over for a half-empty bottle and waved it in her hand. "For the thing."

"Of course."

"You knew?"

"I… I really think I should be going."

"Am I being insufferable?" Maura asked, nearly pouting, as if this was the worst thing a person could ever consider her to be.

Adelaide had to smile. "Never, dear. But my goodness—I haven't seen you like this since the town's Thanksgiving celebration last year."

Maura giggled, setting the bottle back down on the table. "What an event that was! The party was exhilarating enough, but the real treat was when Jane took me home and ravished me."

Well, this had certainly taken an unexpected turn. Adelaide raised an eyebrow. "Jane …pardon?"

Maura closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to think. "No, no. Wait. She didn't actually do it then, she didn't, but I dreamt that she had. Only I was still awake when I dreamt it." She laughed brightly, turning on the spot. "And oh, it was wonderful! Tell me, Addie—do you think that when I'm as old and as withered as you are now, that Jane will still find me desirable?"

The unintended insult about old age went through one ear and out the other as Adelaide tried to discern whether Maura was honestly confirming what she, Adelaide, had been suspecting for some time now. "Does Jane find you desirable now?"

"Oh heavens, yes," Maura snickered. "Or if she doesn't, she puts on a very convincing act." Her smile dropped almost comically fast. "What if it _is _an act? Good heavens, Addie—what if she doesn't mean it? What if she's not …if she doesn't…"

Maura suddenly appeared to be struggling to catch her breath, and an alarmed Adelaide quickly walked over to pat her reassuringly on the back. "Calm yourself, Maura. You aren't quite right in the head at the moment, so don't go postulating about things while your mind isn't entirely there. You're…" But she didn't know what to say, due to the fact that she really had no idea whether the alcohol was making Maura make things up or speak the truth.

Whatever the case, Maura was clearly agitated. "Addie, tell me, please. You know Jane better than my mother does—do you think she loves me?"

"Maura, I really d—"

"Adelaide, have you ever been in love?"

"Yes."

"Has anyone ever been in love with you?"

"Yes."

"It's wonderful," Maura muttered, pulling herself slowly out of Adelaide's grip. "And then sometimes I guess it's not wonderful, is it? The worrying and the waiting and the… the thinking she could die any time she steps out the door, because that's just what her job does to some people. But it's enough, isn't it, that I know she walks the line for me? You love being in love, but what do you do when your love is away? On the nights she can't be home because she's out on a run for the Sheriff, and I'm here alone, I just crave her and there's nothing I can do!"

Adelaide stood back, hands on her waist as she gave Maura an appraising look. Maura was a little hunched over, shivering, sounding as if she might cry at any given moment. "Maura," Adelaide finally said in a patient voice. "You aren't truly concerned about Jane's feelings for you, are you?"

"I don't know," Maura said in a hushed voice. "No. I'm not."

"Good," Adelaide said firmly. "Because take it from someone who has known Jane Rizzoli her whole natural-born life." She paused for dramatic effect, and noted that Maura's wide eyes were fixed desperately on her. "You have brought out a softness in Jane that I never believed existed."

The moment was interrupted when Maura hiccupped lightly. "So—you don't think it's wrong?"

Adelaide inhaled sharply and turned towards the door. "This is not a conversation to have while you are inebriated, Maura. I think very highly of you and very fondly of Jane. Let us leave it at that."

And with that, she left, failing to think that it could have been potentially unwise to leave Maura alone in such a state. She just innately trusted that Maura would be all right, because she felt a little too upset to really process much correctly at the moment. Maura's drunken rambling about Jane ravishing her didn't even register with Adelaide as much as she might have thought it would—she was too caught up in the heartache of knowing exactly what Maura meant when she said it was so hard to be alone when her companion was gone. Little did Maura know, and hopefully would she never soon know, how painful it was to have no hope of your love ever returning to you. Death was selfish that way.

When Adelaide got home, she opened a trunk that had remained essentially closed since her husband had died several years ago. She pulled out a portrait that had been taken of herself and her husband on their fifteenth wedding anniversary, and propped it up on the nightstand by her bed. Behind the snark and the airy sense of live-and-let-live, old Adelaide still had her own private moments of grief, something she had not allowed herself to indulge in for quite some time. The forefront of her mind was occupied in sorely missing the man she still considered her better half, but thoughts of Maura's situation lingered. She had fared fine when Garrett Fairfield had left. How would she do if anything ever happened to Jane?

By this time, for her part, Maura had already forgotten Adelaide had come by. She was sitting in front of the fireplace thinking of nothing in particular when the door opened, and Jane stepped inside, tossing her hat on the rack and sighing loudly.

"Jane!"

"Hey, sweetheart," she muttered, rubbing her eyes with her good hand and sinking into a kitchen chair.

It had been a long day. Confronting Constance had been draining enough, and a thorough interrogation of Riley had just made the afternoon all the more stressful. She had told Jane and Korsak that the only way she had to contact the person who had hired her to be Jake was a P.O. box in Wyoming. Normally the name of the state wouldn't have meant much, but considering it was where their murdered Judge had originally hailed from, it sent up a red flag that Jane noted immediately. While Frankie had been given the task of showing Anna around Hollow Creek, Frost was filled in on the case thus far and offered to investigate whether the Judge had any connections to Jake Wyatt. He wanted to know how exactly Riley had been approached for the job, her response being that she had received an anonymous letter one night with the offer.

"_Had you been doing anything that night which might've led someone to believe you'd make for a good Jake Wyatt?" Frost had asked._

"_I don't know," Riley had answered uncomfortably. She was still standing behind the bars of the indoor jail cell, looking out at the Sheriff and his two deputies. "I'd been wearing masculine clothing, I guess. Then I got the letter, and it offered all this money I really needed…"_

Jane sighed again, finally opening her eyes and noticing the bottle on the table next to her. "Oh, good," she mumbled. "My favorite brand."

"Yes, that's a gift from mother," Maura said, wobbling slightly as she got to her feet.

Still not properly looking at Maura, Jane frowned and opened the bottle. "Tryin' to bribe me, huh? Well, it ain't gonna …hey, d'you know this thing's about half-empty?" She finally looked up and her mouth hung open slightly as Maura walked towards her, only in her undergarments. "Um… Maura?"

"Jane?" she asked, calmly straddling Jane's lap.

"Oh," Jane whispered, realizing instantly that Maura was intoxicated. Part of her felt she ought to be worried, but the other part of her was a little distracted by the way Maura was lightly grinding against her. She smirked, a little impressed. "You _drank _all this?"

"Not all of it," Maura sighed, her voice a careless breath. She reached aimlessly over her shoulder, stretching, and Jane forgot entirely that she had planned on complaining about her life at length to Maura this evening. Maura's hand came back down and gently pulled the bottle out of Jane's hand. "I had some, and then Magnum and Jo started barking at each other and it startled me and I spilled some. I cleaned it up, I think."

"Where're the dogs?"

Maura closed her eyes, her face scrunching up as she tried to remember. "Jo's outside and Magnum's in the cellar. But I'm right here, Jane."

"Yes, I see that."

"Do you?" She brought the bottle to her lips, tilted her head back and started to drink. Jane watched in wordless awe as Maura gulped down the fiery liquid, and then Maura choked slightly. The bottle was pulled away with a bit of a _pop_, dripping a substantial bit more of the whiskey down her front. "Oh, Jane!" she gasped, setting the bottle back down on the table. "I'm sorry—this was supposed to be for you…"

"It's okay," Jane said gruffly, tugging upwards on Maura's camisole with her one unencumbered hand. "I can still get at some of it if you'd move this out of the—" Maura leaned back slightly, pulling the garment up and over her head. "Mmm, that's better."

According to Frost, Jane had a tendency to get particularly violent when she drank whiskey, and she was grateful to see that the drink didn't seem to have the same effect on Maura. When she and Jane were alone, she was not exactly what one would call inhibited, but the whiskey's influence appeared to be making her much more wanton than usual. For instance, Jane imagined that only an alcohol-tinged mind would have allowed Maura to come up with a scheme that would end with Jane literally licking the flavor of whiskey off her body.

Before Jane could accomplish much more than that, Maura abruptly got to her feet, laughing lightly to herself. She grabbed Jane's wrist and wrenched her up a bit harder than she'd intended, but didn't seem to notice as she got to work undoing Jane's belt. "I still think my mother is somewhat surprised," she said.

"Maura, let's not talk about your mother right now," Jane groaned.

"But we must," Maura insisted, continuing to undress Jane. "She never would have thought I'd have something on her, Jane, but I do. She has _never _done anything like you. I mean, she's never done anything like you and I do. Doesn't matter how freewheeling a woman she thinks she is." She sighed again, now loosening the buttons of Jane's shirt, trying to pull it away from her sling. "Never thought her straight-laced, doctor's daughter … daughter would do anything less than…"

Despite herself, Jane had to pick it up. "She probably thought I'd be sweet," she said, pitching her voice as low as possible, the way she knew Maura liked it—she even saw her shiver. "Probably thought a man would treat you rough, would be coarse, would be bad to ya." As she spoke, Jane ran her hand down Maura's body, gripping it tightly, letting her fingernails dig in, luxuriating in the moans she was extracting. "A woman would be gentle, right?"

"Not you," Maura said. "Not all the time."

Jane leaned forward and clamped down on the juncture of Maura's neck and shoulder, her teeth grazing the skin there. "I make you even less of a lady than Constance Isles might've expected. Nobody else could make you say or do the things I do, Maura. Ain't that right?"

The only response she got was a loud, satisfied hum as Maura wrapped her arms around Jane's back. "I'll domesticate Magnum, you know," she said suddenly, as Jane continued to kiss her neck. "I domesticated you. I can domesticate anything."

"Think you're in control, huh?" Jane teased her.

Maura pulled back, trying to focus on Jane's eyes. "You always act like you're so tough," she said. "But you're really just a push-over, aren't you?"

Just like that, Jane's eagerness to playact disappeared. Apparently it didn't matter if Maura was sober or not: she would always find a way to reduce Calamity Jane to some level of submission.

"Only for you, _cara mia_," she whispered.

Maura grinned, leaning forward for a kiss. "_Je t'aime_."

"What's that mean?"

"It means…" Taking Jane by the hand, Maura stumbled over towards the bedroom. "Did you eat any supper?"

In the past, it hadn't been uncommon for Jane to skip meals when she reckoned she was too busy to stop for one—a tendency she had quickly realized Maura was fixed on changing. "Only 'cause I figured you'd have a fit if I didn't."

Laughing loudly, Maura pushed Jane down onto the bed, settling on her knees between Jane's legs. "You're right I would," she giggled. "I'm glad you remember to eat because of me, Jane." She shifted and leaned over, her hair tickling Jane's bare stomach as she tugged down at Jane's unbuttoned trousers. After leaving a long kiss on her left hip, Maura whispered, "It's good to see a little meat on your bones, Jane."

Jane's breath was caught in her throat. "Yeah?"

Her hips rose involuntarily when Maura kissed the left one again, and she glanced up at Jane, curling her hands under Jane's legs and resting them at her hips. Letting out a shallow breath, Jane tangled a fist in Maura's hair, and tugged pointedly to the right.

And Jane pretty quickly realized how naïve it had been of her to assume that a sprained arm would put a real dent in her and Maura's ability to make love. All it did was change the game a little, and considering how long they went at it, Jane was totally fine with that. Furthermore, if being tipsy was all it took for Maura to be this eager and open to trying new things, Jane was determined to start keeping a fully supply of whiskey stocked in the house. Sounds were coming out of Jane at a pitch she hadn't known she could even reach anymore, it was so uncharacteristically high and desperate. Normally Maura would have refrained from commenting, in order to spare Jane's pride, but her filter had been washed away and she teasingly admonished Jane not to wake the children. Jane clamped her eyes shut and swiftly brought her hand over to smother the cries that were burning to get out of her throat.

When Jane had done everything in her power to reciprocate, Maura took her turn again, not stopping until Jane, finally overwhelmed and exhausted, begged her to. They had crossed that line between late-at-night and early-morning, and Jane had no idea what time it was as Maura slowly slinked back upwards, resting her arm over Jane's stomach.

"You," Jane whispered, kissing Maura's forehead, "are _wicked_."

There was that girlish giggle again, followed by a peck to the cheek. "Mm, it's the Irish outlaw coming out in me." A few moments of contemplative silence passed, and that was all it took for Maura's giddiness to dissipate into concern. "Jane, are you still in love with me?"

That was one of the few things Maura could've said to really rouse Jane out of her hazy state. "Wh—_what?_"

"My mother," Maura said. "She told me my father wasn't in love with her like she was in love with her. With him."

"What? Desmond Isles' letter made it pretty clear _she _was the one who wasn't—"

"Not my father, my _father_," Maura said impatiently. "Doyle."

"Oh."

"She said she was in love with him and that he wasn't as much in love with her. I didn't know if maybe that was because he was dangerous, and dangerous people don't like to be attached, but you and I—we feel very attached, and sometimes you feel very dangerous. Or you do dangerous things."

Jane slowly rubbed Maura's arm, staring up at the ceiling even as she felt Maura's eyes on her. "Yup," she agreed. "Yup, I do dangerous things. I let myself fall."

"Fall where?" Maura asked concernedly.

"In love with you," Jane said, her voice scratchy and tired, yet strong somehow.

"Am I dangerous?"

"No," Jane said with a short chuckle. She turned to finally look at Maura. "But bein' with ya like this, lettin' my guard down for ya… that's something I never thought I'd be brave enough to do. It always used to seem reckless to me. When I kissed you for the first time, it felt like the most dangerous thing I'd ever done, 'cause the outcome of it meant more to me than anything I'd ever done. I ain't sorry, Maura. I know chances are you ain't even gonna remember this conversation when you wake up, but don't worry." She kissed her forehead again. "I'm in love with ya, and don't ever let nobody tell you otherwise."

That response seemed satisfactory, and within minutes, Maura had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep. But Jane lay awake, redirecting her gaze to the ceiling and noting that a frown was setting back in.

Maura's quip about being quiet lest they wake the children had seemed funny in the few seconds Jane had let it register, but thinking about it now, it was becoming less and less amusing. There were of course no children in the house at this point, but the desire to change that definitely meant they would have to learn to keep it down at night. Jane hoped this would be true of any couple, any mother and father, who wished to carry on in the bedroom without disturbing any of their already-existing children.

But the fact of the matter was that while there were certainly some acts a husband and wife would keep only between themselves, there were smaller things they were free to do in their home, in front of children, without fear: exchange short kisses, volley romantic dialogue, wear each other's rings without explanation.

These were all things Jane felt she and Maura had done at some point in town (Maura had kissed her on the cheek, and they had gone through more overtly romantic conversations than they'd even realized in front of Korsak and Frost), but nobody had ever really questioned them about it. There was nothing to question: it was merely a strong friendship. Home had been their place away from all that, where boundaries were gone and every time they were alone in the house, it was made explicitly clear between them that they were tied together by something much deeper than the bonds of friendship.

How might a child change all of that?

Would they be forced to repress themselves at home as much as the did in town? Just the thought of it tore at Jane's heart, and she turned on her side, away from Maura. There was just no way she could censor herself all the time, in town and at home, her _own home. _

Was there a chance they could be upfront with a child, and help him see that there was more one conventional way to be in love?

Jane shook her head, closing her eyes. Thinking about this by herself for much longer would probably drive her to the bottle that was still in the kitchen. This was a conversation she needed to have when Maura was awake, and had her clear mind back.

The sunlight was what eventually woke Jane, streaming unapologetically into the room after she'd gotten only a few hours of sleep. It was bright and unforgiving, and Jane glanced down to see whether Maura had been woken, also. Apparently not: Maura was clearly still very much asleep. Jane groggily got her feet, crossing the room to tug the curtain over the window and block most of the sunlight. She went about getting dressed, which took longer than usual with only one hand really being of use to her (Maura usually helped), and she was just realizing it might be impossible for her to get a shirt on when there was a knock at the door. The sound was light, but in case it got louder and woke up Maura, Jane hurried to the front room to attend to it.

"Uh—who's there?" she asked warily.

"Jane? It's me," came Angela's voice.

"Oh, uh… could you—actually, could you help me, Ma? I've got this arm in a sling, and I can't get my shirt on proper. Are you alone?"

"Yes." Jane eased the door open slightly, just wide enough for Angela to squeeze inside. "Nothing I haven't seen before," Angela said breezily, taking Jane's blue plaid shirt and helping her into it. She tried not to think too much of the fact that Jane appeared to have just come from the bedroom and hadn't been wearing an undershirt. "So I met Maura's mother," she said with a cough, bending Jane forward as necessary to get the sleeve on her affected arm.

"So I figured," Jane said, feeling herself blush. "Have a nice chat?"

"You could say that, I suppose," Angela said. "She's very—well, she seems to be what my husband might have called very _continental_."

"What's that mean, Ma?"

"It means she doesn't define things like we would define them. Like any homegrown American woman would define them, I mean."

"You mean she ain't proper."

"She carries herself like she is, but she doesn't always talk like she is," Angela explained.

"You talked about me and Maura, didn't you."

Angela busied herself with the buttons of Jane's shirt before answering. "Uh… yes."

"And you think Constance ain't proper 'cause she's all right with it."

"I don't know, Jane, it's been a lot to think about," Angela sighed. "Maybe 'proper' isn't the right word to use. Constance loves her daughter, that much I know. So if it means I've gotta have a continental mind to put your… _relationship _in a place where I can be as collected about it as she is, then that's what I'll do."

"Really?" Jane asked quietly.

Angela finished the last button, and for good measure, helped Jane with her belt also. "Really. Jane, you didn't even let me help dress you when you were a fidgety kid. And now, I'm guessing that rather than wake up Maura to have her help you now, you've let your pride down enough to ask for my help."

"So?"

"So I'm seeing yet again that you really care for that woman. And I'm glad you've got someone to care about so much."

Jane blinked a few times and took a step back. "Uh…right. Yeah. Thanks, Ma. Could you um, wait just here for a spell?" Without waiting for an answer, she ducked back into the bedroom, grabbing a pair of worn boots by the door. She sat on the end of the bed and tugged them both on, glancing over her shoulder at Maura, who was still fast asleep and bound to wake up with a nasty headache. Jane got Maura's favorite robe and put it purposefully on the bed next to her. While she knew it would be appreciated if she stayed, she also knew Korsak expected her to be at work soon, and she didn't want to wake Maura out of her peaceful slumber any sooner than she had to. So, now dressed to leave the house, Jane got up again and closed the bedroom door quietly behind her. "Do me a favor, Ma?"

"Sure."

"Could ya stay here until Maura wakes up? I think she might be in need of a nursemaid when she does, and I gotta go to work."

"So do I," Angela said.

"Well—what're you doing here, anyway?"

"I came as Constance's _am-bass-ador_," she answered, carefully saying the word Constance had so casually used. "She's in the coach outside, waiting to hear if she's allowed to come in or not."

"Of course she is," Jane sighed, rolling her eyes. "Ma, just sit here for a second while I go talk to her, all right? Can ya do that much?"

"Yes, Jane. I think so."

Jane walked to the front door, and paused for a moment with her hand clasped on the knob. Taking a deep breath, she opened it and walked briskly towards the coach that was parked square in front of the house on the dirt road.

"Good morning, Jane," Constance greeted her. "Is my daughter with you?"

"Your daughter's asleep," Jane said, stepping up into the carriage with her and refusing her help to do so. "I don't mind tellin' ya I think she got a bit too much of that whiskey you had intended for me."

"Oh dear."

"And I would appreciate it if you'd stay by until she wakes up. Let her alone in the bedroom, though. Just stay in the sittin' room until she comes out."

"Shall I play the part of governess today?"

"No, you'll play the part of nurse and mother."

Constance couldn't help smiling at Jane, although it came off as more of a smirk. "Yesterday I didn't think either of you wanted me in your house."

"I'm still not crazy about the idea, but I reckon maybe I owe you somethin'," Jane snorted.

"All this for a bottle of alcohol?"

"No," Jane said gruffly. She hunched her shoulders and sighed, wishing she had a cigar—anything to make her feel less needy than what she was about to admit. "Constance, I ain't mad at ya for goin' around with Doyle, for makin' that much of a huge mistake. If it weren't for that, I wouldn't have Maura in my life, and that's really the best gift you ever coulda gotten me. I'm always gonna be in debt to ya for givin' me that gift, and in your own way, givin' that gift your blessing." When it looked as though Constance had been sincerely touched, Jane scowled and stood up, getting off the coach. "Don't mean I have to like ya, though."

"Perish the thought," Constance said, getting down as well. As Jane continued to walk down the dirt road towards town, Constance raised her voice and added, "Would it help if I told you that I liked you a hell of a lot?"

Jane raised her hand, but didn't turn around. "Puts you on par, at least."

* * *

**A/N**: I guess this was another planting-the-seeds chapter, for things (Adelaide, kids) that will come up again later. Thanks again for your patience with this update!


	32. Taken For Granted

**A/N**: Wow, that was quite a stretch where I didn't update, and I feel really weird about it! Sorry it took a while to get this one out, but I'm pleased with how it came out. Romantic Jane will be making a comeback soon :)

* * *

Maura woke up with a splitting headache and lay in bed for several minutes, hoping just to fall back asleep. It seemed a definite possibility before she heard a loud _thump _from the cellar, and with that noise went any chance of a swift return to slumber. Maura blinked hard and sat up a little, noticing her robe was laid out on the bed, presumably by Jane. She grabbed it and got slowly to her feet, pulling on the robe and shuffling over to the bedroom door. She opened it, walked into the sitting room, and noticed Jane's hat and holster (normally by the door) were gone.

Someone else was in the house.

For a moment Maura thought it might be one of the dogs, but those were definitely human footsteps now walking up the steps from the cellar. In a panic, Maura snatched her parasol which hung by the front door, prepared to wield it like a sword if necessary. The cellar door opened, and she jumped forward, brandishing wildly and blindly.

"_Ahh!_"

"Good God!"

Maura opened her eyes to see her mother standing in front of her, hand over her heart and eyes wide in shocked confusion. Once the image registered, Maura slowly lowered the parasol. She felt a tad foolish, a feeling not diminished when Constance laughed softly.

"My dear, what on earth kind of display was that? Were you going to attack me?"

"I was ready to defend myself against a potential intruder."

"What if I'd been Jane?"

"You wouldn't be. She's gone into town for work already." Maura sighed and leaned the parasol against the sofa, and then something else registered. "What are you doing in our house?"

"I came by in an attempt to smooth things over with Jane, and she asked if I would please be here when you got up."

"What were you doing in the cellar?"

Constance raised an eyebrow. "I heard a dog barking down there, and I let him out. Little black ragamuffin of a thing. I'm afraid he had relieved himself in the corner, but I cleaned it as best I could."

Maura's brow contracted. "Oh. Thank you."

Still looking amused, Constance nodded at the mostly-empty bottle that still sat on the kitchen table. "I see Jane enjoyed quite a bit of that drink I bought—although, quite a bit of it is gone. Perhaps you both indulged?" When an awkward silence was her only answer, Constance's smile just widened. "Have you ever been drunk before, Maura?"

"Twice now," Maura replied, torn between embarrassment and amusement.

Nodding her approval, Constance said, "I think it's good for a body now and then, so long as you don't come to depend on it. Frees up the mind and the spirit, doesn't it?"

"I should certainly say so," Maura muttered. She was staring at the floor, thoughtlessly tugging on the fabric atop the sofa. She could hear the dogs running around outside, Magnum being particularly loud. Without seeing him, she couldn't tell if the noise was happy or anxious. "However, mother …I do think alcohol tends to bring out some of my less favorable qualities. My anxieties, for insistence."

"Yes, it can do that," Constance agreed somberly. "Particularly for those who have, well…" She laughed airily. "So much to be anxious about."

Maura impulsively tightened the sash of her robe, then started kneading her hands. It was a nervous habit she had picked up from Jane after years of never fidgeting, of trying to be a lady in even the smallest of circumstances. "Mother, I'm going to take a leaf out of your book and be upfront with you for once," she said breathlessly. Without waiting for permission to then continue, she said, "You told me you felt as though Patrick Doyle didn't love you as much as you did him. How did… how did things end between you? Why did they, I mean?"

Constance sighed deeply, finally sitting herself down on the sofa. From this position she was looking up at Maura, who was barely meeting her eyes. "It was a lot of things, Maura."

"Was it because of me?"

"Because I was pregnant?" Constance corrected it. "That may have been the final straw of it, yes. But in the end, I think it just gave Patrick a handy out. Leaving me was for my protection and the baby's protection, he said. But it just wasn't going to work, Maura, regardless. We were both too independent. We didn't _need _each other for the right reasons."

"What are the right reasons?"

Before Constance could answer, there was a knock at the door. Which, of course there would be. Maura might have been ready to just let whoever it was go, but she found herself walking towards the door to answer it before she could stop. Perhaps a part of her hadn't been ready for this conversation with her mother just yet, and whoever was dropping by was providing divine intervention. Constance was a little surprised that her ever-polite daughter had left the conversation without excusing herself (going to the door in only a robe, no less), and then wondered who the ancient woman on the porch was when Maura opened the door.

"Adelaide! What brings you here?"

"Good morning, Maura, how are you?"

"I'm…I've seen better days," Maura admitted, opening the door a bit wider to allow Adelaide inside. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her mother get to her feet. "Oh, mother, this is Adelaide Johns, our town's master seamstress. Adelaide, this is my mother, Constance Isles."

Regality back on, Constance strode confidently towards Adelaide and extended her hand. "How do you do?"

"Not so bad myself," Adelaide replied. "I must say, it's quite a pleasure to finally meet Dr. Isles' own flesh and blood. We thank you mightily for permitting her to move and stay out here."

"Maura doesn't need my permission for anything," Constance said. "She's quite a girl, you know. Not quite as headstrong as her old lady, but an individual all the same."

"True enough, I suppose. Incidentally, would you mind if I borrowed your individual for a moment?"

Both Constance and Maura looked surprised, but the former eventually said, "Certainly. Maura, I'll just go back outside and re-acquaint myself with the young pup I startled out of your cellar."

"His name is Jethro," Maura said. "Or—well, that's his proper name, at least. Jane likes to call him Magnum. And the other dog is Josephine. Josephine Friday." Constance nodded wryly, smiled at Adelaide, and exited towards the back porch. Maura cleared her throat and said, "Can I get you anything, Addie? Some tea, or…" She sighed, trying to figure out what was different about the old woman today. So far there had been no snark, no sarcasm—but then, those were really only traits Maura saw emerge in her when Jane was around to snap back. "Were you here yesterday, Addie?"

"As a matter of fact, I was," Adelaide said. "You were supposed to have come by to help me with some pictures, but I suppose your mother being here distracted you." When Maura gasped softly in realization, Adelaide nodded grimly. "I came by to see if everything was all right, and you did not seem to be in what we might call an appropriate way to receive company."

"Oh, Adelaide!" Maura gasped, putting a hand to her mouth and sinking into a chair at the kitchen table. "Oh, good heavens, what you must think of me! I've—I want you to know that I typically limit my consumption of alcohol to the point that I hardly ever indulge, _ever_. Yesterday—you're right, my mother being here did catch me off my guard, and her presence tends to make me more anxious than I would like to admit."

"Anxious?" Adelaide asked, sitting down next to Maura. "What about?"

"Oh, about everything, I suppose."

"Mm. Because you seemed quite upset last night about the possibility of Jane leaving." She purposely omitted any references to love, or even saying "you" at the end of the statement, deciding to let Maura interpret that as she would.

What Adelaide didn't know was the scale of the inner battle she had erupted in Maura's brain; she could practically feel the skin of her neck starting to flush in anticipation of a lie. "I d—oh dear."

"You know, my husband once said he believed that drunk words were sober thoughts," Adelaide continued, and Maura was desperately left hanging on a precipice, wondering if the woman was about to reveal how much she knew, how much Maura might have drunkenly confessed last night. "So that means somewhere deep down, you are inexplicably afraid that Jane is going to leave someday."

"Is it so inexplicable?" Maura asked, struggling to breathe normally. Surely Adelaide was the type to say something if she knew Jane was Maura's lover. She would never be so discreet as to hide her hand, right? "Jane is accustomed to a very different lifestyle, one that involves getting up and going whenever it strikes her fancy. You've known her since she was a child, Adelaide. You know as well as anyone that she's made a habit of leaving."

Adelaide wished she had brought a ruler with her, just to slap Maura on the head with it. "My dear, I will not hear you making such pessimistic comments about Jane's former nomadic existence. I'm sure I have no idea where these thoughts are coming from, and if you truly thought about it, you wouldn't either. If either of you were to be worried about the other leaving, I would assume it would be Jane worrying about you."

"How is that?"

"You are the one with prospects, Maura. You are the one who could have any man you wanted anywhere you went."

"I don't want a man."

"So you say," Adelaide said patiently. "And you have made the decision to live out your life with Jane, yes?" Her lips pressed together when Maura nodded weakly. "Forgive my curiosity if you can, Maura, but may I inquire why?"

Maura took a few moments to reflect, to compose an answer that would satisfy them both. Her gaze went briefly towards the back of the house, where she could envision her mother playing with the dogs in the yard.

"I was full of nervous excitement when I came out here," Maura said. "Out West, for the first time." In a bid for light sarcasm, she said, "I know it's hard to believe, but I've always been perceived as a little odd by my peers, Addie. I've had trouble making friends. Garrett, I mean Mr. Fairfield, was always such a dear to me. And then I went and turned my life upside-down to join him up here, and he couldn't even be bothered to meet me at the station in Mesa."

"Perhaps he had to work," Adelaide suggested.

"He did, at least that's what he said. And I have no reason to believe otherwise." Maura took a deep breath, clasping her hands together and glancing towards the back of the house again. "Some time ago, my mother was visiting the country from Europe because some of her art was to be featured in a gallery in Chicago. I asked Jane to go with me because …well, there were several reasons. I wanted her to be with me, though, that was first and foremost. She could've stood me up, Addie. She could have said no. I won't go into detail, but suffice it to say that Jane had a job to do which was far more significant than anything Garrett Fairfield ever dealt with. You might say it had been her life's work up to that point.

"And yet she put it all on hold for us—for me. For my mother's silly, insignificant art show. She came for me, and I know she always will."

"You know it, do you?" Adelaide asked, raising an eyebrow and half-smiling at Maura.

In that look, Maura understood Adelaide's drive in the conversation had been to get her to see the strength in her bond with Jane. Worrying seriously about anything at this point was overdoing it. Her relationship with Jane was nothing like her mother's with Doyle, secrecy notwithstanding.

Adelaide decided to leave it there for now. She wasn't sure how Maura would handle somebody knowing her true feelings for Jane, but what she did know for certain was that she herself was not ready to address it. Not yet. There were secrets in her own past that she had to confront first if she ever wanted to talk to Maura blatantly about it at all. Until then…

"I came by to give you something before my workday started," Adelaide said. "Last night I was going though some boxes I haven't looked at in years, an action triggered by an old photograph I found of my husband and me. I remembered how I used to take his picture with me whenever I traveled—my mother, when she was alive, lived back East herself, you know. Pennsylvania. I visited twice when she was sick, and couldn't afford to bring my family with me, so I would go alone with his portrait tucked into my things. Looking at it made me feel a little less lonely.

"Now." Her voice became a little more crisp, a little more businesslike, the way Maura had noticed it went when Adelaide was trying to stave off emotion. "I recall when Jane went to Powell County with the Sheriff and was gone for a week, you were terribly distraught. I know that a photograph most likely won't do much to assuage any concerns you might have about Jane's safety if she leaves on business in the future, but I thought it might at least bring you some comfort to be able to see her."

She held out a small photograph, and Maura's mouth fell open slightly as she reached for it. In astonishment, she flipped it over to see Mr. Johns' handwriting: _Subject Jane Rizzoli. 19. _

"Mr. Johns was just starting his fascination with photography at the time," Adelaide said as Maura drank in every detail the picture had to offer. "That was one of his earliest efforts, and quite frankly, I'm impressed at how well preserved it is, relatively speaking. He said he had to take that picture because he'd never seen a girl look so natural on a horse. It probably helped that she was wearing proper riding pants for once, which I will take credit for. But…" She sighed sadly, leaning back in her chair a bit. "If I recall correctly, which I always do, that was taken shortly before Jane left for the first time. She was gone nearly two years, and she came back with Frost."

Maura was barely listening anymore. She didn't mean to be rude; it was just so difficult to give any of her attention to something that wasn't this photograph. It was tinted with age, some spots probably bleached by exposure to sunlight (when had it been transferred to a box?), but for the most part, the image was remarkably clear.

A blurry image in the forefront had been hard to discern at first, but with Adelaide's help, Maura realized it was the head of a horse, its body mostly out of frame. Jane sat astride it, her one visible hand gripping either a whip or the reins. The posture went with the typical cowboy's hat perched on top of her tied-back hair, which looked more at home on her head than on many wranglers Maura had seen. She was wearing a plaid shirt that was too big for her and appeared to have been tied into a knot at the bottom somehow, and beneath it Maura realized there was a swath of lace. As she involuntarily ran her finger over it, she dimly wondered if it was a garment Angela had foisted upon Jane in an attempt to feminize her. The only other remotely feminine thing about Jane in this picture was what appeared to be heavy makeup around her eyes (Jane thought it would photograph well, and rightly so; her eyes were stunning). There was neither a smile nor a frown on her face, but whatever expression she had been going for, one thing seemed clear: this was a serious young woman, and one who would not be messed with.

"I had forgotten all about that picture," Adelaide said quietly, though she wasn't sure if Maura was listening. "It was nice to see it and remember, but I thought you might like to have it."

It appeared that Maura had in fact heard that part, because she finally lifted her gaze from the photograph, unconsciously holding it to her heart. "Thank you, Adelaide. I will treasure it for the rest of my days."

* * *

After Adelaide had left, Maura spent several minutes continuing to stare longingly at the photograph. Adelaide had provided a brief backstory of the picture, but Maura yearned to know more, to know everything—how Mr. Johns had gotten her to agree to sit for one, where she had gone afterwards, whether she had decided at this point to pose as an outlaw, or if the name Jake Wyatt even scared anybody yet. What schemes were hatching in that brilliant mind which had never been formally educated? How many hearts had she broken with those bold, stunning looks?

It was only when she remembered that her mother was outside that Maura got up and stowed the photograph in the top drawer of her desk. She then went outside to see Constance standing by the rail of the porch, leaning on it as she observed Jo Friday tussling with Magnum.

"Ought I to break that up?" she asked casually.

"I'm sure it's all right," Maura sighed. "Jane would probably say it's all for the best, for getting up Magnum's strength, or some such thing."

"Well speaking of getting up one's strength, Maura, I really think you ought to go rest a bit."

"Rest? But I've just gotten up."

"You look severely pained," Constance said.

"Nasty headache," Maura admitted.

"Do you have any appointments today?"

"Not until this afternoon."

"Well, then! As your mother, I insist you go straight back to bed."

There was something about Constance's no-nonsense tone that made Maura smile. As she did once in a great while, Constance was asserting herself in a maternal role, and Maura yearned for that relationship so deeply that she could not rebel. So it was with a quiet "yes, ma'am," that Maura smilingly obliged and returned to her bedroom. Later she would have to admit to herself it felt good to have the extra rest, partially (mostly) because she was able to enjoy a dream where a nineteen-year-old Jane Rizzoli arrived at the Isles estate in Paris on horseback, eager to sweep a young Maura off her feet.

In the meantime, Constance entertained herself by borrowing one of Maura's pens and a sheet of paper. She was in the middle of a rough sketch of Jo Friday when she heard a carriage roll up outside. Although there was no talking, Constance was sure she heard two people walking towards the house. Curiously, she set down her paper on the sitting room table and walked over to the door just in time to see Jane push it open, dragging along a woman who could have easily been her sister.

"Constance," Jane said in surprise.

"Yes, I'm still here. Remarkable that I've done what you asked, isn't it? Maura is resting," Constance said, nearly all in one breath. She looked at the other woman, and realized she was in handcuffs. "Are you… adopting a prisoner, deputy?"

"No," Jane said shortly. "Riley and I have business to attend to. You said Maura's asleep?"

"I believe so, yes."

"Good. Looked around, have you?"

"I freed a dog from your cellar."

Jane tensed. "You were in the cellar?"

"Yes." Constance instantly sensed that was one of Jane's private spaces, and hurried to honestly assure her, "I went only to rescue what sounded like a howling animal. I assure you that I did no ferreting around."

"Good," Jane growled. "C'mon, Riley, let's go."

"Jane, a word, if you please," Constance said sharply. Jane sighed and motioned for Riley to head downstairs. Once the cellar door had closed behind her, Jane turned expectantly to Constance, who said, "What is your intention in squirreling away that young woman in your cellar?"

"Sorry?"

"Who is she and what is she doing with you in your cellar?"

If one of her arms wasn't in a sling, Jane would've put her hands on her hips. "I'm a little confused here, Constance. D'you think I'm gonna go downstairs and fool around with another woman in the house that I own with Maura? While you and her are both here?"

"All I know is that my daughter is feeling a little needy right now," Constance said in a low voice, choosing not to divulge that she knew this only from the first half of a conversation she had eavesdropped on. "And I would appreciate it if you made a bit of an effort now and then to make sure she feels loved."

"Who the hell are you to tell me something like that?" Jane hissed.

"I know this seems like the pot calling the kettle black, but regardless, I am that girl's mother and I _do _know what makes her happy. My problem when she was growing up was that I never knew how to reconcile our different ideas about happiness and pleasure, but now I know what she needs. There is no penance I can do to atone for my neglectful behavior towards my daughter, Jane. I know that. It is entirely my fault that Maura has grown accustomed to my absence from her life. That does not mean I do not care, and it certainly does not mean I don't want my daughter to be happy."

"I ain't gonna stand here and listen to another lecture about everything Maura's sacrificed to be with me," Jane said in a dark voice.

"Another?"

"Not from you, but I've heard it enough from other people. I don't take her for granted, Constance, and you don't know me at all if you think I'd ever risk the greatest thing that ever happened to me for—I don't even know what for! Riley's involved in a real important case I'm working right now. She's been real helpful so far, and as a reward for helpin' us out at great personal risk, I offered to take her outside the prison for a spell. She ain't a lover on the side, understand?"

Constance said she did, but it might've been harder to believe if she'd been allowed to follow Jane down to the cellar. As it was, Jane closed the door behind her and walked down the curved stairwell to see Riley leaning against the wall by the table.

Nodding at the bag on the table, Riley said, "You try it on yet?"

"No," Jane said stiffly. "I thought it kinda might be hard to do with one hand."

Riley shrugged. "Bet you could do it."

Jane bit her cheek. She _was _going soft. She'd done harder things one-handed before. "All right," she muttered. "Turn around, will ya?"

"Well, well," Riley chuckled. "Wouldn't have taken you for the type to be modest, Jane."

Jane chose not to respond as she unbuckled her belt. Modesty was not at all what had made her ask Riley to look away. It was the fact that she didn't want anyone to see her wearing Riley's accessory except Maura, and she wasn't even sure about Maura yet. She wanted a good hold on it and how it felt before she really attempted anything with it. Stepping out of her trousers and pulling on the leather straps, Jane reflected on something else, brought up by what Constance had just intimated: she felt no desire towards Riley whatsoever. She never had, but Constance's words and the fact that she was half-naked right now just made her glad to know that Maura was still the only person on her mind. She always would be.

"I don't suppose you want any help?" Riley asked.

"No," Jane said gruffly, pulling on the straps to adjust them properly. It fell a little loose, but she hoped that when she pulled the trousers back on and belted them, it might tighten things up a bit. This turned out to be the case until she took a couple steps and realized that straps would have to be adjusted, but she didn't feel like taking care of it just now. She sank into the cellar's only chair and whistled.

"Can I turn around now?"

"Yeah, sorry."

Riley turned and looked down at Jane, who appeared slightly mystified. "Feels a little funny, huh?"

"A little." Jane adjusted her position in the chair.

"What do you want it for?" Riley asked, looking confused. "Or would it be impolite to ask?"

"It would. Normally I don't give a hang about manners, but if you don't mind, Riley, I ain't gonna tell ya." She let out a loud breath, curling one hand into a fist. "Don't think I'm gonna go around with it on all the time."

"Can't see why you'd want to."

Jane smirked to herself. "It don't chafe or nothin'?"

"No."

Jane's smirk deepened. She remembered Maura had a thing for leather, had always let herself linger over the material on Jane's belt and a few bolo ties, luxuriating in the feeling of it against her skin. How would she respond to something like this? In her case it was probable to start a wave of ecstatic hysteria, not end it, as its original creator had ostensibly intended. It was then that it really occurred to Jane that Maura was the one who should be down here with her, not Riley, even if Riley was the one who'd procured the thing and understood how to wear and use it. Jane didn't want it for Riley, she wanted it for Maura. But not until she had chosen just the right way to bring it up.

"You gonna keep that thing on during your interrogation?" Riley asked. "Or isn't that why I'm here?"

"You ain't gonna be of much use to us until Frost's research gets us results," Jane said. "Gotta see if our murdered Judge had any connection to Jake Wyatt. The Judge and your boss are both from the same county in Wyoming, and I don't believe in coincidences."

"No, huh?"

"Not on your life."

"My life," Riley snorted, lifting her shackled hands. "Looks like I made a mess out of it, didn't I? Seemed like an adventure at the time—and one worth getting paid for. You've only got the one shot at life, haven't you? To make it worth it?"

Jane smiled wryly. "Yeah, you only live once. But if you live right, once is enough."

"Seems you've got it all figured out."

"I just learned a lesson a long time ago that really helped out," Jane said, getting to her feet. "Don't let your mouth ever get you into something your ass can't handle."

"That was very poetic," Riley said flatly. "You're a regular Shakespeare."

"I do what I can."

Jane jumped when she heard the cellar door (out of sight at the top of the twisting staircase) creak open. Constance's voice floated down: "Jane? Your partner and the Sheriff are here. Shall I tell them you are busy?"

"Nah, send 'em on down," Jane called back.

Heavy footsteps came tromping down the stairs a moment later, and there appeared Frost, looking un-amused. He told Riley to go back upstairs, where Korsak was waiting to take her back to his office, and waited until he'd heard her shut the door behind her before he rounded on Jane.

"Catch me up all the way, partner," he said darkly. "And you tell me what the hell you've been thinking."

"About what? I told you I thought Riley deserved a chance for some fresh air after everything she's done to help us."

"She _says _she's done to help us! How do you know she's being honest, Jane, huh? How do you know we're not being had? Desperate people will say or do anything they think might get them out of a tight spot, and Riley could be no different. All she does it tell you she's a poor woman who tried something a little crazy to get some money, and your brains just go slipping out of your head."

"Hang on there, Frost—"

"What were you thinking bringing her _here? _To your house, to where Maura is? You're a damn fool, Jane Rizzoli! Already knowing it was her mission to kill you, you went ahead and told this woman you're Jake Wyatt, and _then _you show off that you live in the same house as the town doctor, Maura, who I also understand _you kissed _in front of her and Korsak."

"Maura was in disguise," Jane scoffed.

"Not a very good one, according to Korsak," Frost shot back. "You confided in Riley, and that put your life on the line. But you're putting Maura in danger, too, do you know that? What if Riley can't be trusted? What if she uses her knowledge of your closeness to Maura to her advantage?"

Jane was breathing sharply, nervously, because in all honesty this was something she hadn't even considered. She had just innately trusted Riley from the start, for reasons she could not articulate. And she definitely couldn't articulate all of it Frost—what if, on a subconscious level, Jane had wanted Riley to be on their side so she could justify borrowing what was still sitting between her legs? But that was stupid; she could've gotten that from her on her own and not told so much to Riley.

"Frost," Jane said quietly. "You're just gonna have to trust me, okay? Has my gut ever been wrong? Ever led us astray?"

Eying her warily, Frost stopped to think about it. Ten years of experience with Jane Clementine Rizzoli was a lot of time to try and think over. After a very long silence, he said, "Yes."

Jane's eyes widened. "When?"

"That time you said you were certain Mrs. Young would be such a good cook on account of all her kids being so fat. And her food was awful."

There was a pause, and then Jane laughed nervously. "Honest, though, Frost. Riley's heart is in the right place, I know it. I wouldn't have brought her here if I didn't think I could trust her. And believe me, it'll be a cold day in hell before I let anyone put a finger on Maura Isles."

Again, Frost was rendered silent. He remembered very distinctly the time he and Korsak had arrived on a scene just in time to shoot a man who'd been ready to kill Jane …just after she'd murdered Hoyt, who she had stabbed to protect Maura from harm.

"I really appreciate your concern on Maura's behalf, partner," she said seriously. "But in my opinion, it's misplaced. I'd swear on a Bible that you don't have to worry, and I'll make Riley swear on one too, if it'd make you feel better."

"Y'know, I think it would?" Frost said, easing up a bit. Jane's confidence always bolstered his spirits. "I… I'm sorry, Jane. I didn't mean to question your judgment."

"Yeah, what got you so spooked?"

Frost shrugged. "Well, um… I guess now that I've got a wife of my own, I know how it feels to wanna protect her. I know how it feels to have someone care about me the way Maura cares about you, and I wouldn't want to put that in danger in any way. I shoulda known you wouldn't, either."

Jane gave him a hard, scrutinizing look, wondering if he knew what he'd just said. But this was Frost. Of course he knew. He'd say just enough and then back off, and this would be one of those things they never spoke of again. She held out her good hand, and Frost shook it.


	33. Useful

**A/N**: All I can say is not to worry about Riley and Jane and their awkwardness. No worries, y'all.

* * *

By the end of the week, Constance had made her preparations to return to Europe. It was the longest amount of time she had spent in America with her daughter since she had first set sail for the other side of the world, and it was humbling beyond belief to see what Maura's day-to-day life had become. Constance followed Maura to most of her house calls, assisting in the most rudimentary ways when she could. Maura had a certain genuineness about her, a sweetness that Constance knew had to have been a learned style of behavior from her husband. Patients adored her.

"Have you ever had any trouble from the men in town?" Constance asked. "Anyone attempting to pursue you?"

"Not seriously, no. Not in some time," Maura replied as they walked towards Angela's tavern.

Constance smirked. "Not since Jane came around?"

Maura grinned back. "I can take care of myself, you know."

"Yes, I'm seeing that," Constance chuckled. She stopped walking once they had reached the porch of the tavern, and turned to face Maura. "My dear, I hope you know …I am truly sorry not to have been there to watch you grow up. I know you would say it is a waste to feel remorse for actions you hadn't taken in the past, because there's nothing you can do about them, but I am aiming to try harder now. Your father, bless his heart, was there for you in ways I never was. And I intend to make up for it now, Maura, in ways that…" She inhaled sharply, glancing away when she saw tears falling from Maura's eyes. "I know your father is sorry to be missing all of this. Sorry he can't be here to witness who you've become. But I'm proud of you, and I know he would be, too."

"Thank you," Maura said, after taking a shuddering breath. "Thank you, mother, honestly."

"Thank you for forgiving me."

It was Maura's turn to avert her gaze now, embarrassed by her own emotion. "Well, I know what it is you mean, mother. About having certain responsibilities which were shirked in the past, and which you wish you could fulfill now." Noting the understandably curious look Constance was giving her, Maura looked around and ducked into the empty little alley by Angela's tavern.

"Child, what is it?"

"Something I wish I had done," Maura said breathlessly. "Something—you said I could talk to you about Jane, and there's something I wish I had done for her, but I missed my chance. And I worry that talking to her about it now would only upset her, which is the last thing I want to do."

"Of course, dear. What is it?"

Maura lifted her chin slightly, taking a deep breath, willing no more tears to fall. "There was a man. He was the reason Jane has no parents." Her eyes flicked up to her mother's, and an understanding passed through that look which expressed that although this was not secret information, Constance was never to tell Jane that Maura had told her. "He was insane, and nearly drove Jane to the brink trying to catch him. When she finally did, I was here. I'd met him twice without ever knowing who he was, before …well, before he died."

"Died, hm? What is it you regret, Maura?" Constance asked softly. "Wish you had been the one to do him in?"

"Not exactly, no. I don't even know if I would've liked to hurt him, in spite of the horrific things he did to the person I love."

"What is it you regret not having the chance to do?"

Maura bit her lip before answering, hands settled gingerly at her waist. She wanted to avoid sounding like a monster herself, but at the same time, wanted to get across how utterly serious she was about it. "I regret never having had the chance to _scare_ him," she finally replied. Constance's tensed features smoothed out slightly, and Maura recognized the somberness settling in there. "I wish that she hadn't had to fight him alone in the end. I wish he hadn't died thinking that Jane had nobody else to stand up for her, to protect her."

"What about this man who's been with her? Frost?"

"Frost wasn't there at the end," Maura answered. "And Hoyt—that man—he never saw them as a team. In a way they were, but in a way they weren't. They were two people brought together by the most monstrous of situations imaginable, and I think that's the only way he ever saw them. Victims. Victims with nobody left to look after them but themselves, because he thought he had gotten rid of anyone who really mattered." She sighed, not sure why exactly this had been weighing on her mind lately. "I just …I would have liked to have shown him. I would have liked to engender fear in his eyes as he saw that Jane Rizzoli didn't stand alone."

She blinked and realized Constance had reached out, taking hold of the hand Maura had only just noticed was shaking. "I can understand why you would feel that way," she said. "And in its own way, that is admirable, Maura. But the most important thing I believe you can do now is to make sure _Jane_ knows for certain that she doesn't stand alone."

"She never will," Maura said steadily. "Not while I'm still breathing."

Constance smiled at her. "Then do not regret a thing, Maura, not so long as Jane knows she will always have an ally in you. And you two… you will _always_ have an ally in me."

* * *

When they walked into Angela's tavern, it was to see Jane and Riley sitting at a table opposite of Anna and Frost. Strangely, the married couple was sitting farther apart than the deputy and her still-cuffed prisoner. Constance raised her eyebrows at Maura, who put on a smile and prepared to walk over before Jane caught her eye and held up a hand—a sign for Maura to keep back.

Angela walked over then, and Constance asked, "Well, well! What goes on here?"

"Jane's teaching Riley how to play poker," Angela sighed, wiping a dirty glass with a dirtier rag. Her tone was entirely disapproving. "I've been told more than once not to interrupt, so don't take it personal, Maura."

"I don't," Maura said lightly, though she did look a little hurt. As the three of them walked over to the bar, she couldn't help mumbling, "Jane's never offered to teach _me_ how to play poker."

"That, my dear, is because you are a lady," Constance said, settling herself slightly awkwardly on one of the barstools. "And a lady doesn't play poker."

"Do you?" Maura asked.

"Oh, well of course _I _can."

"Is that a fact?" Angela laughed. "Any good? I'd love to see someone really give Jane a run for her money for once."

As if hearing her name from across the room, Jane stood up just then, patting Riley on the back and heading over to the bar. Frankie, who'd been sitting at the far end, jumped up. Jane just rolled her eyes and gave his shoulder a bump as he hurried to take her place at the poker table.

"Afternoon, all," she said, leaning against the bar. "Maura, can I borrow ya for a moment?"

"You may," Maura replied, getting off her stool and following Jane to the end of the staircase.

Once sure they were effectively out of earshot, Jane said, "Look, I didn't mean to brush you off before. We were just in the middle of a hand, and I didn't want Riley to loose the flow of the thing."

"Did she ask to learn?" Maura asked.

"No, I wanted her to learn," Jane answered, before lowering her voice even more. "We're still waiting for some information on our murdered judge to get to us. Until then, I've filled in Frost on this whole scheme to get rid of Jake Wyatt, see? Riley wants to help, but we still ain't so sure where exactly she fits in. Frost reckoned maybe she could go back out as an imposter, and I'd step in as the real Jake and ask to draw pistols with whoever was posing as me."

"And she would 'kill' you?"

"Yeah. Maybe. We're still just shootin' ideas out there. Anyhow, we all agreed that if she was gonna try posin' as me again, there are some things she'd have to get down. Like poker. Jake Wyatt ain't hardly ever come out anywhere but the top spot in the last ten years. She's gotta learn the tricks of the trade, what people know about me. Little things might slide, but not knowin' how to hold her own in a game of poker is gonna raise some eyebrows."

"Oh, I see," Maura said softly. "It makes sense. Is that what you've been doing with her these last few days?" Her tone was light, careful not to sound accusatory, though she must have had an idea she was not coming across as subtle as she hoped. "I mean, I know she's been in the house, at least. Mother told me."

Jane sighed, reaching out and putting a hand on Maura's shoulder. "Sweetheart, listen to me. Riley's just helpin' out on this case, all right? Gettin' her on our side's been a real help, y'know?"

"Jane." The word came out abruptly, nervously.

"What is it, Maura?" Jane asked, using that soft tone she reserved for one person and one person only.

Maura's mouth twitched, and she set about needlessly tightening Jane's sling. "I just …I want to help any way I can, Jane. You won't shy away from asking, will you?"

There was a gentle amusement in Jane's eyes, a bewildered sense of wondering where this was coming from and how Maura could ever doubt her own importance. "Hey. Maura, you've never denied me anything. And I wanna do no less for you. There's so much you do for me, probably without even knowing you are. Look, Maura, you really wanna help?"

"Of course I do."

"Then free up your schedule for tonight, okay?"

"Why?"

"Never mind why. Are you gonna be free or not?"

"Yes, Jane, I will. I'll make sure it will." She sighed and lowered her fidgeting hand, grasping Jane's free one with it. "It'll be nice to have something to take my mind off the fact that my mother is leaving shortly."

Jane leaned down and left a kiss on Maura's forehead. "Good," she whispered, still holding Maura's hand as she walked back to the main part of the tavern. Raising her voice slightly, she said, "Constance? You oughtta be right proud of your daughter. Y'know she's been a real help to the justice department around here. We ain't ever had someone so brilliant around these parts."

"That's what I hear," Constance said. In fact, Korsak had filled her in on Maura's application of the finger-printing technique, as well as her most recent assistance in ruling out the Judge's death as a suicide. Jane would have bragged about Maura earlier, but it took a while for her to be on better terms with Constance. "Now, Jane, something I else I hear: you are supposedly a holy terror when it comes to poker."

Jane smirked. "That a challenge? I'd whip your _derriere_, Constance Isles."

Constance stood up. "Care to make a wager on that, Calamity Jane, and deal me in the next hand?"

With a grand bow, Jane gestured towards their table and said, "After you."

Maura decided to stay at the bar and watch from there, asking Angela for a sarsaparilla. As there was nobody else in the tavern at the moment, Angela felt free to join Maura in taking a drink, though she stayed on her side of the bar. It felt a little odd now, watching Maura look at Jane and Riley. Now Angela had a real idea of what was going through her mind and Jane's when they looked at each other like that.

"Maura," she said gently. "If you don't mind my asking, um… why are you looking at Riley Cooper as if you wish you could shoot bullets from your eyes?"

The doctor jumped a little, looking flustered and guilty. "Well, Angela, because! Don't you feel a little strange having a prisoner in your tavern?"

"Tommy's been in here when he's served time," Angela said mournfully. "Last Christmas, remember? I tell ya, though, where's that boy been? I can't hardly remember the last time I saw him around town! You have any idea where he's been, Maura?"

Now Maura looked guilty for another reason entirely, knowing in all likelihood what was preoccupying Tommy but also knowing it wasn't her place to say. "I—Jane's said he's been getting some work in Green Forge lately, painting houses and other things." _Impregnating showgirls…_

Angela waved her hand impatiently with a "well, never mind, I'm sure he's fine." She cleared her throat and looked back at Riley, who was now warily looking on as Jane had taken over their hand, eying Constance darkly across the table. Ever since her conversation with Maura's mother, Angela had decided to make a more conscious effort to be supportive of Jane and Maura. It didn't matter if the relationship made no sense to her or if it wasn't what she had wanted for Jane: what mattered was that both of her daughters were happy. Or they usually were, anyway: it was clear that Maura felt a little on the outs at the moment, and Angela was determined to at least try to cheer her up.

"Maura…this must seem odd to you."

"What must?"

"Seeing Jane and that young lady getting on so." Angela knew she was right when Maura lowered her gaze and started to blush. "And I can understand that in a way, Maura, I can. You ain't accustomed to seeing Jane be friendly with other women. You're used to seeing her talk and be nice and polite with them when she has to be, but you ain't used to seeing her be a friend to one."

"Jane is well-liked," Maura said. "She has plenty of friends."

"All of them men," Angela said pointedly. "Maura, it's all right, I understand. You're used to being the only woman under the age of fifty who Jane's ever really even smiled at—you're bound to be uncomfortable when she starts acting, well, _comfortable _around another one! But don't tell me you're insecure enough to believe Jane would ever consider…" Here was where Angela got caught up, not sure of how to proceed at ease. "Anything _more _with anyone other than… well, you."

"I am not insecure about that," Maura said, and she felt she could say it honestly. "What I don't like is the thought of Jane letting in someone else about…" She was going to say "secrets," as she was sure Angela still hadn't been told about Jane's alter-ego (and hence why she was teaching Riley how to play poker). But that might bring up too many questions on its own, and so she finally said, "the case" instead. "I mean, I know that I shouldn't necessarily be involved, but…"

"But she's confiding something in another woman and that makes you feel bad," Angela guessed.

Maura shrugged, feeling childish about it. "Bad_ly_," she corrected under her breath.

"What?"

"It just feels unusual is all," Maura said. "But I'm fine about it, Angela. Really."

* * *

Constance put up quite a fight, but could not manage to beat Jane at poker. She was not a sore loser, however, and Jane didn't gloat. Riley was impressed with both of them, particularly Jane's ability to make her face an emotionless mask (something she herself had to work on), and Constance's breezy confidence, itself a useful asset in at least pretending to master this or any other game. Riley liked having the time away from the Sheriff's office, sad that she still wasn't trusted enough to go anywhere unescorted or unshackled, for that matter. But she had to concede it made sense from where the law stood.

There was a strange kinship she felt with Jane, strange only in that Riley had never experienced it with someone else before. Jane had once been an outsider, like Riley so often felt. Jane was as mannish as she was, as opposed to dresses and putting up her hair and daintiness as Riley was. The main difference between them seemed to be that Jane was actually interested in owning the black leather appendage Riley had received from a randy woman. After observing a few interactions between Jane and Dr. Isles, Riley couldn't help thinking she understood what it was Jane wanted it for, and further she couldn't help being put off by the thought—so she put off the thought itself, at least for now.

When the time had come for Constance to be taken to the train station, Korsak offered to escort her. Maura declined only for the opportunity for just a touch more time alone with her mother before another months-long or years-long separation. As they drove to the station in a borrowed wagon, they were granted the gift of the first comfortable silence in their relationship. It was punctuated here and there with talk both small and significant, but Maura found herself truly appreciating the quietness as well, as much as she enjoyed the fact that she was no longer afraid of answering her mother's direct questions.

"Maura, I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Yes?"

"Those earrings you are wearing. Are they sapphire?"

"They are."

"Where on earth did you get them? They're absolutely lovely, but not quite in vogue these days. They can't be a new acquisition."

"Technically, I suppose they aren't. They were a gift from Jane." She cleared her throat needlessly. "They belonged to her mother."

Constance grinned her understanding.

The goodbye was surprisingly undemonstrative, perhaps because for once, Maura did not feel worried that a physical separation meant an emotional one as well. For once, one of them leaving did not necessitate an near-end of communication. The strength of their relationship seemed be growing more and more all the time, built up taller than before after each breakdown. This time when Constance left, Maura knew it wasn't really a goodbye. It was "until the next time."

Still, she couldn't help feeling a little unhappy when she returned to town. As per an earlier arrangement with Jane, she drove the wagon by the Sheriff's station to pick her up and drop off Korsak's vehicle at the same time. But as soon as she pulled up, Jane just smilingly clambered into the wagon and told her to head the long way towards Sparrow Lake.

"But the Sheriff's wagon," Maura protested lightly.

"It's all right, he said we could use it," Jane told her, waving her forward. "Go ahead, Maura. I'd row ya across the lake to our hideaway if I could, but I ain't gonna try with this bum arm."

"I could row us," Maura offered, though she had already gotten the horse trotting again.

Jane snorted. "Sure, if you _want _it to take us three hours to get there," she teased. She laughed and asked for a truce when Maura elbowed her in the gut. "So, Maura. Got your mom goin' okay?"

"I did. I saw the train leave the station."

"It felt a little outa sorts havin' her here at first," Jane said. "But it was nice after a while. She and I had a talk, y'know. About you, and about what it used to be like havin' you around in Europe when you was a kid."

"I'm afraid I bored her terribly," Maura sighed.

"Not on your life!" Jane laughed. "She said you were fascinating, and all her friends thought so, too. She's a little unusual, your Ma. Something ain't quite right there, I don't think, but I like that about her. I mean, the types of people she's pals with, that she had around you ever since you were a kid—they seem like a real cast of characters!" (Maura couldn't help smiling to herself, knowing how much of a character everyone in Hollow Creek would seem to be to those in Boston.) "She told me about this game her friends used to play with you."

Maura laughed reminiscently. "Oh, which? Was it Authors, or Hoop Chasing?"

"It was 'Thirty Seconds to Live.'"

"Oh, I'd forgotten all about that one."

"Thirty seconds to live," Jane said in a theatrical voice, her voice sounding explosive in the wide open space that surrounded them. They were past the edge of town, headed the long away around the lake to Wohaw Springs. "Do you kiss the fellow you've always had your eye on? Do you jump from a cliff to see how the wind feels? Do you try wrestling a bear, just to test its strength?"

"Did she tell you what a bore I was in that game?" Maura chuckled. "Her friends kept trying to get me to be creative, but I was too young and practical to play along properly. Thirty seconds to live, and I'd hug my father. Thirty seconds to live, and I'd ask my mother tell me she loved me. Thirty seconds to live… trying to save someone else's life if I could. Not very exciting, is it?"

Jane reached her good arm around Maura's waist and kissed her cheek. "You leave the bear-wrestling to Esther, Ruth," she said. "I think you got the idea of the game just right."

Dusk was about to fall by the time they reached the small alcove where they shared some of their more private moments. They had had to park the horse and wagon a ways off before going the rest of the trail on foot, Jane leading Maura by the hand until they had reached the edge of the lake. Maura had never quite been one for nature and the outdoors until meeting Jane, and this spot, where Jane had essentially proposed, would always hold a special place in her heart.

"I have something for ya," Jane said once they'd sat down, and she pulled a small bag out of her inner shirt pocket. "Y'know the other day when Korsak sent me and Frost over to Dusty?"

"Wasn't that where the Judge lived for a spell before he came here?"

"Right. We didn't learn nothin' there that we didn't already know, and it seemed a shame to come home empty-handed," Jane said. "And then I saw this, and I thought…" She smiled at Maura. "I thought it'd actually go real nice with the sapphire earrings you're wearing, and even nicer with my mother's comb."

Curiously, Maura took the bag out of Jane's hand and opened it. Her mouth fell open when she pulled out a long string of pearls, all of them somehow seeming to glisten. Maura had always wanted a necklace of pearls, ever since she had seen the most high-class ladies in Boston wearing them, but had never known quite how to request one. She rubbed several of the pearls between her thumb and forefinger, suddenly feeling more emotional than was probably reasonable.

"Do you like 'em?" Jane asked eagerly.

"They're beautiful," Maura said reverently. "How did you—?"

"There's a merchant over in Dusty who's from _China_," Jane said excitedly. "And that's where those pearls right there came from, Maura. All the way from China!" (Never mind that until a few days ago, Jane hadn't even known where China could be found on a map.) "And he told me he and his wife have seen a fair share of fake pearls all over the West, mostly in shows and on actresses, I guess. But he said the way you could tell a real strand was if none of the pearls was the same size."

"Oh?" Maura asked, inspecting the necklace more closely. Each pearl was different.

"Yeah!" Jane said, leaning over and touching a few of the pearls herself. "People who make fake pearls think they all oughtta be the same size, 'cause that'd be prettier to the eye. But each one is different, each _real _one, that is. Anyhow, I saw it and I just thought it'd be something you'd really like, so I picked it up for ya."

Beaming, Maura put the long necklace over her head and adjusted it slightly. "How do they look?"

Jane glanced down to where the necklace ended, just above Maura's breasts. "Like they was strung together for the sole purpose of being worn by you."

Maura was not given a chance to comment on the sentiment behind the thought, because Jane had followed it up by leaning over fully and leaving a long kiss near the base of the necklace. Maura's arms went up to wrap themselves around Jane's neck, and she shivered as she felt Jane's lips leave a series of gentle kisses along her collar. Jane was holding herself up with her good hand, her recovering arm bent awkwardly between them, but for once that didn't really matter to her. What mattered was that Maura was starting to respond to her actions in kind.

"Wait," Maura said a little breathlessly. "You said you wanted me to help you tonight."

"Exactly," Jane whispered, her breath hot against Maura's neck as she left a kiss there.

"Well…" She inhaled sharply when Jane kissed the same spot a little harder, a little more hungrily. "Should we be getting distracted like this?"

Jane chuckled and lifted herself up to look Maura in the eye again. "Maura, this is all part of it," she said. "You're a help by being the only person in the world I can be my total, natural self around. You help me by loving me, by _making _love to me, by listening and giving me advice."

"Mm—but Jane, I meant I want to help in other ways, too."

"And you will," Jane assured her quietly. "As soon as Frost and I come up with the whole plan about what to do with Jake. You don't think I'd try pullin' off something this big without your help, do ya?"

"I don't want to be an afterthought," Maura argued. "Let me give you my input."

Jane smiled down at her, feeling indescribably blessed to have someone like Maura Isles in her life. Somebody who would push back just enough, who would want to help this badly and this directly. Maura Isles gave her an embarrassment of riches.

"As you wish," she whispered.

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks for reading, y'all. Reviews are still awesome and appreciated, even this late in the game :)


	34. Artistic License

In the three weeks after Constance's departure, an unusually large amount of mail and packages arrived for Dr. Isles, mostly consisting of the items in Boston she had requested be sent over. Jane, still wearing her sling only because her doctor strictly ordered it, watched on in helpless annoyance as the postal workers lugged one heavy object after another into the house. They started with a sizable portrait of Maura's father (which was moved into her study), followed by an ornate rug for the sitting room, which they then upon laid Maura's harp. The last piece to be brought in was the porcelain tub, and for lack of a better space to put it, it wound up in the bedroom.

"Wouldn't it fit in the cellar, Jane?" Maura asked.

"It'd fit just as well in your study," Jane responded. "That's my place down there, Maura, and I wanna keep it that way: for myself."

Maura frowned. She and Jane were sitting on the porch, watching as the delivery men prepared their carriage to leave again. "You're really so averse to me spending time in 'your' part of the house?" she asked. It occurred to her that while Jane had dropped periodically into her study, she herself hadn't been down to the cellar since the two of them had first started fixing up the house.

Jane recognized the hurt in Maura's tone, and figured it was probably justified. It was difficult for her to know how to explain herself without offending Maura's sensitive feelings. Every now and then, Jane needed a little time on her own: she had become accustomed to having her privacy, and she kind of liked having part of the house be her own territory. She couldn't really fathom Maura's perspective, not when half of Maura's life (the part spent in Europe) had been spent in unwilled, unhappy solitude.

"You know why the tub can't go down there," Jane muttered, putting her arm around Maura's shoulders.

"Why?" Maura asked.

Jane leaned in closer to whisper directly into Maura's ear: "I work down there. You think I'd ever get anything done if I knew I could also have you wet…" She pressed her lips briefly to Maura's cheek. "…and naked down there any time I wanted?"

She left one more quick kiss before pulling away, and Maura could not suppress a shiver. If any of the workers found Jane's behavior too familiar, they made no comment, and merely waved goodbye to the women once they finally got on their way down to Green Forge a few moments later. They hadn't been gone long before Korsak rode up, gracelessly dismounting his horse and hurrying up the porch steps.

"Dr. Isles," he said, handing her a letter. "Mind if I bring Jane down to my office? I know I said I'd give her the day off, but we just got in some information on the Judge's case that she needs to see."

"Oh, of course," Maura said, though she looked a little sad as Jane stood up. "May I come by later?"

"Please do," Jane begged, and Korsak nodded to let her know it was all right.

As Jane and Korsak headed back into town, Maura curiously opened the letter. It wasn't often that she got mail, but what made this instance particularly intriguing was that she did not recognize the handwriting on the paper. She skimmed past the letter for the signature, and her eyes widened when she saw Dennis Rockmond's name at the bottom. As far as she knew, the one time they had met, he hadn't known who she was; to him, she was just some tawdry creature hanging around outside a tavern in Green Forge, waiting for someone else (namely Jake Wyatt, or at least his impersonator) to come around. What could he possibly have to say to her?

_"Dear Dr. Isles – _

_ I hope you do not find it presumptuous of me to write you this letter, and I do hope your mother has spoken to you about me, or else this shall be more excessively awkward that it need be! She and I met while I was fortunate enough to study painting in Paris, and we bonded rather quickly. I'm afraid I did not get to know her as well as I might have liked, but when I returned to America and she told me to look up her daughter, I could not resist the invitation!_

_ I have been traveling around the West for some time now, looking for inspiration for my work. Your mother eventually gave me the information to get in contact with you, and I now realize I was near your town quite recently—you are near Green Forge, correct? I was there for a spell, drinking up local color, and I have since been in neighboring (slightly larger cities). _

_In asking around where I might find some more intriguing characters to study, it was brought to my attention that I ought to visit Hollow Creek, and lo and behold, that is where you are! Currently I am in Mesa, as there is a gallery here displaying my work. If you should look to come see it, I would be honored, but it is closing shortly, so I shall not be offended if you are unable to make it. Rest assured I will be visiting your town as soon as it is possible, and I intend on seeing you there!_

_ I look forward to meeting you,_

_ Dennis Rockmond"_

When she had finished reading, Maura couldn't help but think it _had _been a bit presumptuous, until she took her mother's route and instead filed it away as initiative. From the exceptionally brief time she had spent with Dennis, she had gotten the impression that while he thought quite a bit of himself, he was ultimately harmless. As she walked back inside, she thought it might be interesting to get a Paris-trained Easterner's artistic perspective of the West, and wondered if she could be successful in cajoling Jane to go to the gallery with her.

Jane, meanwhile, was alone with Korsak in his office. Riley had finally been let free yesterday, provided she stayed in town where an eye could be kept on her until Frost and Jane had decided what Jake Wyatt's final destiny would be. She was staying in Melody's boarding house, where the proprietress was given very strict instructions about keeping curfew for her newest tenant. Lest Riley get any ideas about trying to climb out the window, Frankie had volunteered to keep watch on that part of town at night, which suited him fine.

At the moment, he and Riley were chatting just outside the Sheriff's office, and Jane couldn't help feeling a little over-protective of her guileless younger brother.

"You think Riley's attractive, Korsak?" she asked.

"Riley? Sure!" Korsak chuckled. He sobered up when he saw the dark glare Jane was giving him. "Uh, if you're inclined to that sort of—um, never you mind, Jane. This here's what I wanted to talk to you about." He waved the letter that was in his hand. "Finally got this from the law in the Wyoming town where Judge Wilkins used to work. You and Frost have been there, haven't you?"

"Wyoming? Sure, a long time ago."

"How long were you there?"

"Not very. We got—I think that's where we got Juan Delgado, though. Put him in jail—"

"—and Wilkins sentenced him to be executed," Korsak said gravely. "It was his first case. And y'know something, Jane? Apparently, Jake Wyatt's a real hero over in those parts. This here letter says the Judge always made sure everyone knew the credit went to Wyatt when it came to taking out that villain Delgado."

Jane shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "So where ya goin' with that, Korsak? It happened eight or nine years ago. You sayin' someone's trying to get revenge _now?_"

"You spent fifteen years chasing revenge," Korsak said, remaining serious. "You were a kid, Jane, you had to wait before you could get out runnin'. I don't believe in coincidences. Wilkins comes out here from Wyoming, someone kills him, tries to make it look like a suicide. Riley says she was commissioned in Wyoming to start impersonating Jake Wyatt—and why? To flush out the real thing, to get him killed in what would look like a natural manner. Someone's trying to cover their tracks, Jane."

"So you agree on what we've gotta do, then," Jane said, leaning forward. When Korsak just stared blankly at her, she said, "We gotta kill Jake off. Publicly."

"To…flush out the person who wants to kill you?"

"And to beat him to it. You've already decided the person ain't in town anymore. They hired Riley like you said, to cover their tracks. All Riley's gotta do is make sure her employer finds out Jake's gone, legitimately gone, and there it is."

"I thought Riley said her boss was gonna want to check in person."

"Exactly. It'll get him here. Ain't that the best way to go about it, Korsak?"

"I don't know," Korsak sighed. "It seems awful dangerous, Jane."

"We're in a dangerous business, old man. We do this, we get rid of Jake and we get Riley's crooked employer all in one fell swoop. Maura and I were talkin', and she had this idea to come with me and scope out a town we could potentially do it in. Y'know, see how tough their tough guys are and whether it'd be reasonably safe for Jake to go there."

"You mean see if it's likely there'd be somebody who'd take a shot at you, if he had the chance?"

"Precisely. What's more, Frost and I agreed you was right in thinkin' no matter if he was the one to kill Jake Wyatt or not, a town might be hesitant handin' the reward money over to a black man. So Maura came up with the idea of Riley goin' to this place, dressed as Jake. Then I'll show up, pissed to all hell at the sight of somebody impersonating me, and I'll challenge her."

"And she'll win? What makes you think the law would be happy to hand over the money to a woman if they won' t a black man?"

"She don' t have to go around broadcasting her femaleness, Korsak."

"All right, well, what about a doctor to proclaim him dead? You figured that out yet?"

Jane sighed dejectedly. "We've got a couple ideas. Still gotta work one out."

"Okay, Jane. You let me know once you've picked a town where Jake's reward is posted." He raised his eyebrows when Jane averted her gaze, fist clenching at her knee. "You've already picked a place?" he asked, sounding surprised.

She cleared her throat, keeping her eyes on the floor. "Colt City."

Korsak's expression became more somber, and he leaned back in his chair once Jane had met his gaze again. Colt City was actually a rather reasonable choice: while it was big, which might not have been ideal, they were more of an industrious place than one full of gunfighters. The people there were friendlier, more amenable to discussion than fights. They were a wealthy lot, and as such, could afford the price of paying off somebody who "killed" Jake Wyatt. The city was a shining example of what the West might be, if more places like it could spring up and clamp down on allowing criminals to run rampant—it would be a symbolic place indeed for Jake's legend to finally die.

It was also the city where Jane's mother had been born, and where both her parents were buried.

"I'd like to take Maura there," Jane said a little breathlessly. "As soon as possible, as soon as she'll let me outta this sling—a few days, I think. I ain't ever taken her there, and I want to. We could go just to scope it out."

"All right," Korsak said with a nod, his voice a little tighter than he'd intended.

A few minutes later, Korsak stuck his head out of the swinging door to his office and asked Riley to come inside. Frankie followed her automatically, and Korsak was about to ask him to stay put (as he couldn't be in on the plan that involved Jane), but then the Sheriff noticed Maura riding up. He figured Frankie might as well come in, then, as, Maura was surely about to drop by as well, probably to borrow Jane for a moment. As it turned out, when Maura came inside, she didn't seem to feel the need for privacy.

"Read this," she said, handing Dennis' letter to Jane.

While Jane struggled over the loopy handwriting, Maura pulled back the veil on her blue cap and pulled out a small mirror, fixing back some strands of hair that had come loose in the ride over. She noticed that Jane kept looking up from the letter to glance at her, but would always look away once Maura returned her gaze.

"So," Jane said slowly. "He's got an art show goin' on in Mesa, hm?"

"Yes. Would you like to go?"

"Would I _like _to? Uh…no," Jane said, handing the letter back over. When Maura frowned at her, she shrugged and said, "What, so he's a friend of your mother's? I'll meet the man when he comes to town, 'cause it sounds like's comin' here."

"Why wouldn't you go to Mesa with me?"

"I ain't got any interest."

"Well…you've been to an art show with me before!"

"Yeah," Jane snorted, smiling in spite of Maura's confusion. "That's 'cause I'd never been to one before, so I didn't know what all I was in for! Besides, that day was more about pleasing your mother than it was about goin' for the art. And I dunno about this guy," she added, nodding at the letter. "I seem to recall readin' his name in a paper in Boston. Paints about the West, but he ain't ever been here before, ain't that right?"

"He's here now to try and make his work more authentic. Jane!" Maura chided when Jane rolled her eyes, neither of them seeming to care or notice that they were having a married squabble in from of other people. "You might like it!"

"I won't. Art just ain't my thing, Maura. I mean, if you _really _want me t—"

"Dr. Isles, _I'd _go with you," Riley volunteered. Four pairs of surprised eyes turned to her at once, but she kept resolutely looking at Maura. "I've been known to push the paint around myself, and I love art. I'd be happy to go to a show with you if you'd rather not go alone."

Maura glanced over at Jane before taking a few steps over towards Riley. Except for their run-in when Riley had been in disguise, they'd never really had a chance to get to know each other—Maura, in fact, had hardly seen her. She noticed something sticking out of the bottom of Riley's sleeve, and she mindlessly rolled it up to reveal a large a tattoo on her arm. Korsak clucked his tongue, somewhat shocked that a woman would get such a thing, and at such a size as well. Riley appeared sheepish until she caught Frankie's admiring gaze.

"A koi fish," Maura said blankly, absently running her thumb over the tattoo. "They symbolize independence."

"Hey, that's what the man said who gave it to me!" Riley chirped, looking grateful that the distinguished doctor hadn't lectured her about the wickedness of tattoos. "How'd you know that?"

"My mother knew a man well-versed in Eastern philosophies and culture. That's just one of the many things he taught me which I happened to remember, for whatever reason."

"Well, I think that's neat. I say, you must be pretty cultured! So how about that art show?"

Maura couldn't help looking back at Jane, and Riley followed suit, as if looking to her for permission. Her interest in accompanying Maura was perfectly innocent, although it had occurred to her after she'd made the offer that Jane might get territorial over Maura's time. Or that she, Riley, could even be perceived as a threat.

But Jane merely shrugged and said, "Dunno what y'all are lookin' at _me_ for."

It wasn't even the tone she used when she was trying to placate somebody, Maura realized. Jane really was fine with the notion of Riley taking her somewhere, and she found herself perturbed by that. "Thank you, Riley," Maura sighed. "But I'm not sure I've the time to go. We may as well wait for Mr. Rockmond to come here."

"Are you sure?" Riley asked.

"Yes. It isn't in my nature to travel out of my way for an art show when I am not familiar with the artist's work. I had only brought it up as a suggestion." Just to get Jane's reaction. "I suppose it's my own fault for mentioning something as _frivolous_ as art when you all have such _important_ things to be getting along with."

"Maura," Jane groaned.

She daintily held up a gloved hand. "No, no. It's quite all right. I have business to attend to myself, so if you will all excuse me, I'll bid you good afternoon and see myself out."

For the first time in her life, Maura found herself regretting that it was impossible to slam a swinging door. Still, she had managed to make her exit rather dramatic, and Korsak coughed significantly. Jane scowled at him, and he nodded towards the door. Knowing she'd been rude and hating to admit it, Jane sighed heavily and got to her feet, quickly taking the path Maura had gone done moments before. When she got outside, she was surprised to see that Maura had already mounted Wind Whistler and was moving at a steady pace down the street.

"Maura!" Jane called after her, hurrying to catch up. "Maura, will ya stop for a second?"

"Mrs. Hunter is expecting me," Maura said lightly. "I need to be on the other side of town."

"Maura, please? Just give a minute, that's all." Maura stopped her horse but made no move to dismount, cuing another sigh from Jane. "Really? C'mon, Maura. Are you really so upset?"

"You traveled all the way to Chicago to see an exhibit with me once, Jane. Now you won't even bother going somewhere as close as _Mesa?_ What's changed?"

"Maura, I'd have gone with ya if you really wanted me to," Jane sighed, and it was the truth. "I was just givin' ya a bad time, is all. Art don't interest me, you know that."

"Well then why did you come with me to Chicago?"

Jane gave her a look which said _"really?"_ all too clearly. "You know why," she said, trying to keep her voice low. She nodded to a nearby alleyway, and Maura was finally persuaded to get off Wind Whistler, keeping her close as she followed Jane to a slightly more secluded area. "I ain't interested in art," she said, "and I didn't ever pretend to be. I'm interested in _you. _You knew that then, and ya know it now. I ain't ever been dishonest about that."

"I know," Maura said. "Would you really have come with me, if I really wanted to go?"

"Yes!"

"Then why didn't you put up more of a fight when Riley said she would escort me?"

"Because first of all, she didn't use the word 'escort.' Second of all, she ain't interested in ya like I am."

"How do you know?" Maura asked loftily.

"Because," Jane said with a derisive snort. "I just know."

Through the few non-case related talks they'd had, Jane had gleaned that Riley had been given many opportunities to kiss or make a move on women while in disguise, but had never done so. And it wasn't because she was scared, it was because she just disliked the whole idea. Jane recognized none of the fear or desperate attempts at amusement she herself had employed when relating similar stories to Frost, all to convince herself she hated when women flirted with her. Riley didn't need to convince anybody, least of all herself.

"Wait a second," Jane said, smirking and folding her arms. "Do you _want _me to be jealous? Is that it? You're disappointed I didn't make a scene."

"Are you insane?" Maura scoffed, folding her arms as well but sounding quite as though Jane had hit the nail on the head. "How many times have I told you off for being jealous of Tommy's interest in me?"

"I ain't ever been jealous of Tommy," Jane said, "Just mad at him for bein' so presumptuous with you. The only person in your life I was ever jealous of was Garrett Fairfield. And I ain't jealous of Riley, 'cause I know she ain't got any interest in ya that's anything more than friendly. Aw, Maura!" Jane laughed when she saw the doctor frown slightly. "You wanted a scene, and I didn't give it to ya."

"I don't need you to be demonstrative," Maura said. "And I…"

"Don't lie; you'll get a rash."

"It's nice to feel wanted, that's all," Maura said with a rush. "And after your cavalier dismissal of doing something with me that _I _wanted to do, I suppose it would have at least felt nice to have you…"

As she struggled for the right words, Jane, baffled, said, "Be possessive of you? I thought you said that was unnecessary. Staking a claim."

"It _is_," Maura insisted, frustrated at her sudden inability to communicate well. "I mean, it isn't _necessary_, no, but …well, all the same, didn't you say you liked how it felt when I told off Anne Hughes for flirting with you in Boston?"

"Yeah, but that's different. It was flirtin'. Riley wasn't flirting, Maura, she was just tryin' to be nice to you after she saw ya get treated bad by me. And I apologize for my behavior, I do. And I swear, if it'll make ya feel better about yourself, I'll give Tommy a kick in the pants the next time he bothers to show up in town." That joke, at least, got Maura to smile wearily.

As luck would have it, Tommy wound up staying in Green Forge another week. As Lydia's pregnancy wore on, he made himself more and more scarce around Hollow Creek, as if worrying that someone there might be able to just look at him and know what he'd done. Little did he realize that Jane and Maura were onto him, but had yet to divulge his secret to anyone else.

Jane would, however, be given the opportunity to express her feelings towards Maura's hopeful suitors a few days later, when Dennis Rockmond finally graced their little town with his presence.

Maura met his coach when it came in, and was glad to learn that when he looked at her, he saw only Constance's features, not those of a gaudily-dressed woman he had seen outside Stanley's tavern. He was delighted with the town, and his cheerful attitude reminded Maura much of her own when she had first come to Arizona: everything was fresh and new, different from the East and certainly different from Europe. Nothing—be it a bird's dropping which landed on his shoe, or a loudly screaming child in the place where Maura took him to dine—could dampen his jovial spirits, much like Maura had been unable to wipe a smile off her face her first few days in the West.

"Your mother's work is very highly regarded in Paris," Dennis said, as Maura introduced him to Wind Whistler at the corral. "It's very powerful, like these horses here."

"I think she would appreciate that analogy," Maura laughed. She opened a burlap sack hanging on the fence, and pulled out an oat to give Wind Whistler. "She always encouraged me and anyone who listened to take life by force."

"Not follow conventional paths," Dennis said, and Maura nodded. "Yes—I didn't know her long, but I do think she would have sanctioned my… methods. You know. I do certain things to keep myself in the proper mood of what I am painting." Before Maura could mull over these words, Dennis took her hand and said, "May I ask, Maura—has anyone painted your portrait before?"

"Many times," Maura replied. "All of my mother's friends were artists, and they all did their best."

Dennis' grin seemed to widen, as if his smile was smiling. "I shouldn't be surprised. I imagine your beauty is so great, it would inspire the least talented bindlestiff to hop to his feet and become an artist, if only with hopes to capture just a smidgen of your looks on canvas!"

He was so charming and looked so harmless, that Maura couldn't help feeling pleased by the flattery. "Why, Mr. Rockmond…!"

"Please, just Dennis," he told her for the tenth time that day. He tightened his grip on her hand somewhat, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. "Tell me this. Have you ever been sculpted?"

"_Sculpted_? I should say not, although I believe it must be a thrill!"

"Would you grant me the honor?" he asked seriously. "From what I can tell, you would look absolutely gorgeous in stone. It would be a shame for a Boston beauty such as yourself to keep your body out here and out here alone for people to admire! I should be very, very honored if you would allow me to attempt capturing its essence." His voice lowered. "Think of it, Maura. Like Michelangelo's _David_."

"Dear me," Maura said, feeling herself blush. "I must say I believe I would be more at home with a bow and an arrow than I would a slingshot, but I find your proposal very intriguing and very flattering, Dennis. How long would it take?"

"For you? Not long at all," Dennis said. "Although I do prefer to sculpt from life, I could do a preliminary sketch if you would like. Are you free right now?"

"Well, I… I kept the day open. I haven't any calls to make until this evening."

"Perfect!" Dennis cried, looping his arm through Maura's and heading away from the corral. "That's your house down there, you said, isn't it? How charming to have it be within walking distance of the town's corral. Do you get much traffic this way?"

"Not much, no. It's quiet peaceful over here, in fac. Well, as peaceful as it can get living with Calamity Jane!"

For a moment, the smallest of frowns creased Dennis' regal forehead. Maura had introduced him to Jane earlier that day, but she had been busy and consequently brusque. He'd taken comfort only afterwards when Maura had assured him she would later reprove Jane for not being a little more gracious.

Neither of them were aware that Jane had been granted a long break for lunch, and that she was currently hard at work in the cellar of her home, carving something for Maura. The sound of her saw kept her from hearing the front door open above her, as well as two pairs of feet walking along the wooden floor. Maura invited Dennis to make himself comfortable, and he settled on the sofa, pulling off his gloves. Below them, Jane rested her saw and heard Maura walking towards the back porch.

"I keep my bow in our shed out back," Maura said to Dennis, pausing by the back door. "I'll just fetch it and see if you think it is aesthetically pleasing enough to be sculpted."

"Oh, I'm sure you won't disappoint," Dennis said. Maura smiled at him and exited the house.

She had gotten all the way to the shed before realizing she'd neglected to retrieve the key to it from its peg near the front door of the house. With a sigh, she turned back towards the house, lifting her skirts so she could walk a little faster.

"Dennis, I forgot to—" Her breath caught in her throat.

Maura was shocked to see that in the short time she'd been gone, Dennis had stood up and begun removing his shirt. To be precise, he was unbuttoning it to reveal there was no undershirt beneath it, and he smirked as Maura looked on in shock while he tossed the shirt to the floor. He next unbuckled his belt, but did not remove it. Noting Maura's speechless state, he hooked his thumbs through the belt loops of his pants (which were feeling increasingly tight), and waited for her vocalized permission to continue.

"You said to make myself comfortable," he said with a shrug. "And I always follow doctor's orders."

"I d—I didn't—" Maura could not think of a thing to say, and she turned her back on Dennis, trying to catch her breath.

"You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Maura!" he chuckled. "I just always thought it was a bit off when I'd be in art classes in Europe, and the girl, the model, would be up there stark naked. Totally exposed. And in the meantime, we were all sitting around in our Sunday best. I wondered if it would ever put the girl at ease if we were all in an equal state of undress."

"Mr. Rockmond, I never had any intention of modeling _nude _for you!"

His smile faltered somewhat. "You…didn't?"

"NO!"

He jumped at the volume of her reply. "Ah… well… perhaps I could convince you? As I say, and I think your mother would quite agree—"

"You said you barely knew her!"

"And I didn't! Which is why I said I _think _she would agree that there is no shame in studying human anatomy, but young ladies—especially American ones—have always been a tad prudish about it. Let me put you at ease, Maura. We may both be undressed, just as God made us!"

"If you want to put me at ease, Mr. Rockmond, you will leave at once!"

"Are you certain?" he asked, sounding disappointed that he had misread Maura's signals.

Trembling, she finally turned back around to face him, incredulous at his nerve—no, not nerve; something that far exceeded nerve. "I am _quite _certain," she said, enunciating each syllable darkly through her teeth. "And if you do not leave post haste, I will take it upon myself to break into that shed, take an—"

The threat was never spoken in its entirety, for at that precise moment, Jane had decided to come up and see if Maura was available to talk. What she saw after banging open the cellar door was that Maura was pale, standing against the far side of the room, and Dennis Rockmond was standing at the other, shirtless and with his belt undone.

"Deputy Rizzoli!" he laughed, bending down quickly to grab his shirt. "What a pleasure to meet you again. I…" He gulped when Jane slowly started walking towards him, the look in her eye similar to one he had seen in a wild dog once. A wild dog that had almost killed him. He attempted another laugh as he walked backwards towards the front door. "Just a matter of miscommunication, you understand—I didn't—I wouldn't ever do anything without—uh—it's all a misunderstanding!"

"Understand _this_."

Jane took the few strides necessary to reach Dennis. She hooked her foot around his ankle, yanked the front door open, and kicked him to the porch. He collapsed awkwardly, and Jane's sling fell easily as she reached for him with both hands, wrenching him to his feet enough so she could throw him bodily down the porch steps. Dennis' shape was such that he was able to roll back to his feet on the grass, but Jane wasn't through with him.

By this point, Maura had recovered enough from her shock to run across the house to the front porch, where she witness Jane yelling an endless string of obscenities at Dennis as she straddled his back, pushing his face into the yard. Finally, he fought back, but he wasn't much of a match for an old pro like Jane: one well-aimed kick sent him definitively to the ground, clutching his groin and howling in total agony.

Jane whistled, and her two dogs came running from the back yard. Although Magnum was barely a month old, he had already outgrown Jo, albeit not by much. He barreled towards Jane with youthful enthusiasm as Jo came yipping, then growling at Dennis when she saw the intensity of dislike Jane was directing towards him. Magnum followed suit, prowling a small circle around Dennis' fallen figure.

"Stay," Jane said harshly, addressing all three of them. She then turned on her heel and stalked back towards the house, where Maura was standing, jaw dropped, by the door. "What happened?" she asked.

"It was so fast," Maura said weakly. "He was—he said he'd like to sculpt me, and so I brought him home to discuss it, and… I went outside for a moment, and when I got back, his shirt was gone!"

"Was he gonna—?"

"I don't think he intended to assault me," Maura said, calming Jane ever so slightly. "I'm sure he just… I'm sure he'd heard of how uninhibited my mother was, and assumed I would be the same."

"He made an ass out of himself," Jane grunted. "And I'm gonna take him down to the station for indecency and lewdness towards a lady."

Maura's eyes roved over Jane's sweaty figure, and her gaze landed on the cloth sling that had been abandoned as Jane thoughtlessly fought Dennis with both hands. Noting Maura's gaze, Jane flexed her newly-freed arm and said, "Toldja I didn't need that anymore."

"Hurry back," Maura said in a quiet voice. "I mean, once you take Dennis down. Hurry back to me."

Jane grinned slowly. "All right. When I do, I don't wanna find anymore shirtless men in the house, understand? In fact…" She looked at the necklace Maura was wearing. "When I get back, I don't want to see you wearin' anything but them pearls." Her smile came back in full as Maura blushingly returned it, and she gave Maura's backside a quick squeeze. "How's that for stakin' a claim?"

* * *

**A/N**: In anticipation of your anticipation, I'll just say that I don't plan on using Dennis much past this chapter. I always saw him as more of an entitled sleaze than a believable killer.


	35. Love and Death

In her youth, Maura had always been fascinated with the distinctions that made humans different from any other animal. She remembered surprising her mother one day as a very young girl, relaying her conclusion that humans had to be animals because they were not vegetables or minerals. She found it odd but enjoyable to be a member of the only species that wore clothes (and thus could appreciate fashion), could create fine art, write music, write books, perform life-saving operations. She never failed to be grateful for a brain that was capable of retaining so much information, of allowing her to follow the most complex formulas, of accomplishing any task laid before her.

Desmond had to tell her only once, when she was seven and jokingly tried to eat dinner with her hand, "Maura Dorothea Isles. You are a girl, not a wild beast. Eat with your utensils, please." And Constance, while she may not have been a stickler for prim and proper behavior, further pushed the division: "Ah, the arts, my dear. These are what truly separate us from all the other creatures on the globe—our ability to create and critique art."

Yes—be it in a hospital or an art museum, Maura had never taken for granted the blessing it was to be a part of the human race.

But these were the things that went right out the window whenever she was around Jane, and Jane was in a particularly aggressive, demonstrative mood.

After literally chucking Dennis into a jail cell, Jane had returned swiftly back home to find Maura in the bedroom, removing her corset. Jane wordlessly stalked towards her, tearing off Maura's remaining garments and literally throwing her onto the bed.

And here it was, what Jane called the wild animal that was buried away deep inside of the refined lady doctor. Rationale was gone. Critical thinking was gone. Deliberate response was a joke: the only things keeping Maura vaguely connected to the ground were her fingers twisted tightly in Jane's curls, tugging in an attempt to guide Jane where to go next because trying to verbalize it was a pointless endeavor. Every muscle was moving of its own accord, involuntary biological reactions that corroborated the thoughts flying through Maura's educated mind at one hundred miles an hour: _more, more, more, more. _

There was no restraint here, no efforts to muffle the sounds coming out of her that could only be described as, well, animalistic. And that was to say nothing of the low moans Jane managed to get out between her staggered breathing, careful to breathe through her mouth as much as possible in this position.

It wasn't long before Maura, relaxed but tense, begged Jane for a moment's peace. Snickering quietly to herself, Jane kissed her way slowly back up Maura's body, lingering over the pearl necklace Maura still wore.

"Y'know, Maura," Jane whispered, playing lightly with the necklace, "When we were in Boston, I had lots of people ask me about the Indians out here. A couple ladies asked if I'd ever come close to losin' my scalp. I told 'em no, 'cause I hadn't ever _been_ close until now."

Maura made a weak sound that could have passed for either a groan or a laugh, her eyes still closed. "Is an apology warranted?"

Jane chuckled, leaning over and kissing Maura's neck. "I'll let it slide this time." She took a deep breath as Maura sighed in sated content, and she let her fingers trail down to Maura's stomach, tracing a light circle. "So… that still felt good sober, huh?"

Maura hummed, smoothing her fingers over Jane's hair as subconscious penance for pulling at it so hard earlier. "Jane, it was…" She shook her head tiredly. "Unbelievable."

Smirking, Jane kissed the spot just below Maura's ear. "Bet you Garrett Fairfield woulda never loved you like that."

"I wish you would stop mentioning his name so quickly after we've made love," Maura complained, her features scrunching as she tried not to picture the scenario Jane had jut proposed. It really was an unattractive habit Jane had, occasionally bringing up Maura's former fiancé as if she still needed to convince Maura that she had made the right choice.

"That," Jane whispered jokingly in a low growl, moving her hand between Maura's legs, "was not making love."

"Claim," Maura breathed, wincing and shifting Jane's hand away. "Staked."

A few long, silent moments passed as Jane tried to gauge how much of a break Maura needed, or if they were actually done for the night. Maura's eyes were closed, and once her breathing had fallen back into a gentle, regular pattern, Jane braved speaking up again: "Reckon you could take some time off soon, Maura?"

She sighed dreamily, the world still a hazy place. "Certainly. What for?"

"I've got a place I wanna take ya. A place I ain't been to in a long time," Jane muttered. "A place I think Jake could die."

That got Maura back to her senses a bit, and she blearily opened her eyes. "Jane?"

"It's called Colt City, it's on the other side of Mesa. West of it. Big place, lots of money, Jake's been spotted there before." She sighed and sat up a little bit, pulling the coverlet over herself and Maura. "Funny thing. It's one of the oldest settlements out here, but you'd never know it. They advance quick, they're modern quick."

"Why haven't you ever taken me there before?" Maura asked innocently.

"It's a day's worth of traveling."

"Is that all?"

She sighed shortly again, staring determinedly at a frayed hole in her shirt. "I guess …when we were just friends, I was afraid you'd go there and love it so much you'd ask Garrett to move so you could live in a nice, fancy place. Not like our little water hole down here. I know," she said, anticipating an interruption, "you're happy here, Maura. I am, too. It's a hard place for me to visit sometimes." She swallowed hard, moving her gaze up to the ceiling. An involuntary shudder passed through her as Maura gently touched her arm, and Jane reached over to take her hand. "Come with me?" she asked.

Though slightly puzzled, wondering what could make a place difficult for Jane Rizzoli to visit, Maura nodded. "Of course. I told you I wanted to be on hand, to approve the locale of Jake's demise."

"Right," Jane said, smiling lightly. "End of the week, then. We'll go, and we'll take Frost."

* * *

"All right, Anna, one question. Does your husband know how to deliver, or does he know how to deliver?"

"It's…well, Barry, I'm not sure I know what to say."

"It's like home, isn't it?"

Anna smiled weakly, not sure that she believed that was a good thing. "We certainly stick out like a couple of sore thumbs."

"Well, we do in the Creek, too."

"Yes, but…at least there, the Sheriff isn't afraid that we're going to rob the whole city blind at the drop of a hat."

Frost and Anna were walking casually down the main street of Colt City, or at least as casually as they could with nearly everyone they passed doing a double take, and several women clutching their husbands' arms tighter as they passed. Frost was accustomed to being looked at this way in other cities, mostly because of his association with Jake Wyatt—anyone walking so close to such a hardened criminal was clearly someone to be feared. Anna couldn't help feeling that the immaculately designed, high-class clothing they wore was also drawing attention: instinct told her everyone who saw them probably thought the clothes had been stolen.

"Just smile and act natural," Frost assured her. "It is all going to be fine."

"I would be more inclined to believe you if I knew why exactly we were here."

"I told ya! I've got an old friend down in these parts—"

"One you refuse to let me meet."

"—who I would like to spend some time with, and _then _introduce you," Frost said. "Come on, Anna, this is what married people do. Spend time together, meeting each other's friends."

"Married people aren't supposed to have secrets, either," Anna said. "Although I suppose that's just something we'll have to work on."

Frost sighed, although Anna really did have a point. While he had convinced her that he would never run off again, letting her know sincerely that she could trust him to stay, he _had _married her without divulging much of what had happened in the last ten years. He had offered a vague explanation of a selfish desire to carve out his own life, to make meaning of it himself without someone cracking a whip over his head. Jane had shown him how to make the most of freedom, and that was that. No mention of his ties to Jake Wyatt, or how many times his life had been in serious danger. All that mattered now was his willingness to bring Anna along for his adventures.

So, this was a step. He could not be fully honest with her without Jane's permission, as her alternate identity was not his to share with whomever he pleased. Every time he wanted to broach the subject with Jane, though, something seemed to come up. Or perhaps he was just scared. Whatever it was, Jane had been particularly tense this week about Colt City, and Frost felt the timing might be better if he asked once they had gotten back to Hollow Creek.

They stepped into the Sheriff's station together, and Frost sobered up when he saw the first and largest poster hanging by the door:

_Wanted: Jake Wyatt, for the crimes of armed robbery, vigilantism, and general crimes against public citizens. Armed and extremely dangerous. $5000 reward if captured dead. _

Anna couldn't help feeling a little wary when she saw Frost mouthing the words "five thousand dollars." She cleared her throat, and he looked over at her. Nodding at the poster, he said, "Ever hear of Jake Wyatt?"

"Considering he's only about as famous as any given President of the United States," Anna said grimly, "Yes. I have."

The Sheriff stood up from his desk at these words. "Whoa, there, honey. Don't you go comparing that scalawag to someone as respectable as the leader of our fine country."

"Oh, I didn't intend it as a compliment, sir," Anna said, looking at the poster with an expression of utmost dislike. "Rather as a comment on how easily misguided society can be by one handsome face. Nothing disgusts me more than a rogue swooned over by legions of ignorant, adoring females."

Looking impressed that someone like Anna could wield such a well-articulated vocabulary, the Sheriff nodded. "Right. Yes. I absolutely agree." He laughed. "How about it, little lady? Try your luck and bring him in for more money than your parents ever dreamed of?"

Anna bristled slightly at the implication, but smiled nonetheless. "We'll see if it's in the cards for me, sir." When Frost raised his eyebrows imploringly, Anna barely refrained from rolling her eyes. "Gosh gee, Sheriff. There sure aren't very many wanted signs posted. You and the Marshal must be do rather well, I suppose?"

As Frost had predicted, the Sheriff appeared all too glad to boast of his various successes, and Anna stayed to listen to his droning while Frost snuck back out into town. Using mostly back roads, he eventually got to Colt City's biggest ranch, where Jane and Maura were waiting for him. Of the three, Maura felt the worst about leaving Anna out of the loop, where Jane silently thought it would be best for her to remain ignorant. Once Frost had assured Jane that Anna was somewhere safe, they all began walking towards the cottage on the ranch's land.

"Jane, you haven't changed yet," Maura said, sounding startled. "Didn't you say this man knew Jake?"

"Not quite," Jane replied. "He knows me and Frost. He thinks I'm one of Jake's, uh…"

"Conquests?" Frost offered.

Jane snorted. "Sure." She knocked on the cottage door, and it was instantly opened up by an older black man dressed in shabby cowpoke's clothing. "Rondo."

"Well, well!" he laughed, opening the door wider and allowing the three of them inside. "If it isn't Vanilla and Mr. Snow!"

"Rondo likes to talk in code," Jane explained in a whisper to Maura. "So those are our secret names."

"And who's this lovely young thing here?" Rondo asked brightly, looking at the bemused Maura.

"A friend of mine, so you'd best respect her space," Jane said, taking a half-step in front of Maura and automatically clutching her hand.

Rondo chuckled to himself, rubbing his hands together. "All right, all right, I ain't gonna take a bite of no Strawberry. She's all yours, Vanilla. So long as Mr. Wyatt don't mind—or is he takin' his coffee with a little Strawberry, too?"

"Does she look like the type of lady who'd give Jake the time of day?" Jane scowled.

"Oh now, you needn't lie for me, _Vanilla_," Maura said, and Jane jerked around to look at her, noting the mischievous look in her eye. She grinned somewhat impishly at Rondo, who was smiling wider (revealing a few missing teeth) in anticipation. "You say you have the pleasure of knowing Mr. Wyatt?"

"Not the way you know him, Ma'am!—_ow!_" Rondo hissed when Frost and Jane both slapped him upside the head. "C'mon, y'all, don't beat on Rondo! She started it!"

"It's true, I did," Maura said. "I trust you know Mr. Wyatt is excellent at cards, Rondo? And you know what they say about a man who's skilled at cards." It was a correlation Jane had jokingly explained to her once, and Maura caught the mixed look of amusement and embarrassment that was on Jane's face. Frost didn't know quite where to look when Maura continued, "Jake's well-being is extremely important to all of us, Rondo, but especially me. I don't know what I would do with myself if I had to go on… alone."

Jane coughed and stepped back in front of Maura, sparing a glance for Frost. "Look, Rondo. Jake's thinking he might come down this way. Can you spread the word?"

"He don't want it to be a surprise, huh?"

"Nope," Frost answered. "He's ready to fight anyone who wants a chance at the reward they got posted for him in town."

"How much?" Jane asked out of curiosity.

"Five grand."

Jane couldn't help whistling, but the sound was punctured somewhat when Maura gave her stomach a light slap. "Don't whistle," she chided. "It's so boyish."

Rondo didn't quite catch the fact that Maura was only teasing, as everything about Jane from her turquoise-studded boots to her fringed buck-skin vest painted the very picture of boyishness. Shrugging it off, he said, "All right, don't y'all worry. Rondo's on top of it. I know who to tell, and they'll know who to tell, and all the right people will know within the hour. But Vanilla? Think it might be possible for me to meet the man this time?"

"We'll see," Jane said, cuffing Rondo's shoulder. "We'll see you around, old timer."

They split ways shortly thereafter, Frost returning to Anna while Jane and Maura got back into their borrowed carriage and Jane started driving. "So how did you come to know that man?" Maura asked curiously. "Or, rather, how did he come to be in Jake's inner circle?"

"Well, he ain't _quite _in the inner circle," Jane said. "Otherwise he'd know Jake personally, and he'd know Jake and me are one and the same. Nah—I used to come here when I was younger, and Rondo got to know me 'cause I hung around so much. I knew he was a bit of a gossip, and he always knew what was goin' on and who'd done what and where they were hidin'. So when I started goin' around as Jake, I knew Rondo would be a valuable resource in these parts—and he was. Helped me catch quite a few villains, that fella. I owe him a lot."

"And yet you've never seen fit to tell him Jake's true identity?"

"Nah. I think it'd be a little too strange for him to know. We've known each other far too long."

"How is it you've known him so long? If it was before you began your life as Jake, you must have been very young."

"I was. My Pop used to bring me here fairly frequently."

They rode on in silence for a while (uphill, Maura vaguely noticed). She figured the reason Jane was sensitive about coming to this place was because it was rooted in nostalgia for her, full of sweet memories with her beloved father. It was probably as difficult to be here for her as it was for Maura to have been back in Boston without her own father's presence. At least Jane's wasn't buried here. Unless… oh, dear.

"My mother grew up in this city," Jane said quietly. "And she was buried here. Pop used to bring me to pay my respects. She coulda been buried in Hollow Creek, I guess, but he wanted she should be put some place else in case Hoyt ever came back." She suppressed a shiver at the name, and Maura gently took hold of her arm. "Not that he'd have robbed her grave or nothin' like that, but… I dunno. I guess Pop always sorta wondered if they hadn't moved, if mother maybe woulda lived …anyhow, he didn't want her to be put in the same ground she'd been killed on. So…"

Jane pulled the carriage to a stop and jumped out, quickly running around to the other side to assist Maura in getting down. Maura gave her a quick kiss before Jane set her feet down on the ground, and she took a good look at their surroundings. They seemed to be near the top of a very tall hill—or what, Maura wasn't quite sure she would call it. While certainly too small to be a mountain, calling it a hill didn't seem quite fair to it. Jane took her hand and led her even further upwards, on a small path that would have been too narrow for their carriage to traverse.

When they at last rounded the final curve, Maura gasped softly. The top cropped outwards slightly, and the whole city could be seen below them. It was a very solitary spot, and would have been entirely empty were it not for two tombstones jutting out of the ground: one each for Tom and Maria Rizzoli.

"Jane," Maura whispered, feeling Jane's grip on her hand tighten as it usually did when she was emotional. "Wh… why didn't you tell me we were coming? I'd have brought flowers."

"I ain't ever brought flowers," Jane said. Instead, she pulled two rocks out of her pocket and put one on each marker. She saw Maura's confused expression, and rubbed the back of her neck. "One time me and Frost came across some, uh, Jews in our travels. We'd gone to pay our respects to a man who'd died fightin' Will Cole, one of Jake's first enemies. And we saw these people in the graveyard puttin' stones on a tombstone."

"Why stones? Why not flowers?"

"That's just what I asked 'em," Jane said. "And one of 'em told me it was 'cause stones don't ever die. Flower do. They wither up and wither away, but a stone'll live on forever. Of course, I guess sometimes they get blown away," she chuckled. "But the point stays. Anyhow, the other fella told me a stone could keep away…" She squinted heavily, trying to remember the word the man had used. "It was another language, and I couldn't ever recall what it was, but he said it meant demon. Stones kept demons from bein' able to get into the graves." She shrugged.

Maura, predictably, had been weeping quietly. Jane gave her a handkerchief. "Well now I suppose I wish I had brought some stones," she said, trying to buck up in light of Jane's brave face. But it was hard to stave off more emotion when Jane silently reached into her other pocket and produced two more rocks, handing them over to Maura. They left small dirt stains on her white gloves, but she paid that no mind as she reached forward to tremblingly put them on the gravestones. "There. Free from demons, and their souls will never die."

Jane nodded, and gave Maura's hand one more squeeze before letting go and dropping to her knees. She pushed her new brown hat back over her shoulders (now Maura suddenly understood why Jane had put so much effort into looking her best today), and clasped her hands together.

"_Amata madre e padre… mi scusi, __È stato un periodo di tempo così lungo._ _L'assassino è morto ma, cosa ancora più importante, mi sono innamorata.__Il suo nome è Maura." _

At her name, Maura settled herself down next Jane, her skirts pooling around her. "_Ciao_," she said. "I… _amare… vostro figla." _

"_Figlia_," Jane chuckled, correcting Maura's pronunciation of _daughter_ but appreciating the attempt anyway.

"Oh goodness, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. It was nice, what you said."

"I only told them I love you."

"I know," Jane said quietly, squeezing Maura's hand again. "And it was nice." She leaned towards Maura, resting her forehead against hers, interlocking their fingers. "Whenever I let myself think about my parents maybe watchin' me, I wondered if they worried. I mean, I must've always seemed lost to them, the way I seemed lost to Angela."

"What would you have them know now, then?" Maura prompted her quietly.

"I _was_ lost," Jane whispered. She closed her eyes and gripped Maura's hand tightly again, giving her a short kiss. "But look what I found."


	36. No More Secrets

_The town was bustling, full to bursting with people, and most of them were dropping eagerly by the house. Everybody wanted to congratulate Maura, to congratulate Jane, both of them—the happy couple, soon to be a happy family. The front yard was ruled by Jo Friday and Magnum (now two feet tall at the shoulder, wielding a tail that could take out an unsuspecting bystander any second). Excitement buzzed around Maura and within her as she waited on pins and needles for Jane to show up. Jane would be there any minute. Angela's tavern was somehow fused to the house, and she was giving out free drinks, laughing with whoever dropped by to pick one up. _

_And then the dogs started barking, and Magnum came bursting through the front door, into the crowd, to find Maura. She quickly ran to him, and in turning around, he inadvertently knocked over an end table but his master paid no mind. The yard was still full of spectators, but Maura hardly saw they were there as Magnum cleared a path for her._

_Jane was speeding down the road on her gray-blue steed, one hand at the reins while the other cradled a small white bundle. In no time at all, Jane was at the house, and she dismounted the horse. She was dressed in a full Union officer's uniform, dark blue from top to bottom. It was a bit ragged, but the double lines of golden buttons which went down the front glistened in the unadulterated sunlight. Jane whisked off her hat and tossed it aside, allowing her dark hair to spill over her shoulders as she walked, beaming, towards Maura._

"_See?" she said, gesturing to a dark red sash tied around her middle. Maura remembered very plainly the night she had sewn it. "Told ya I wouldn't get any holes in it." _

"_You're safe?"_

"_We both are," Jane whispered, and she turned to show Maura the baby in her arms. "I got to the doctor's just in time."_

_The baby was fast asleep, wrapped in his blanket like a cocoon as Jane held on protectively. Maura couldn't help reaching out to stroke his head of dark hair, and a tear fell from her eyes once she made contact._

"_Jane, he's beautiful," she murmured reverently, laughing as she wept._

"_And he's ours," Jane added, kissing Maura's forehead. _

"_Goodness, we haven't even a name picked out yet!"_

"_I was thinking Zachary. It's a good, strong name for a boy." _

"_Well, well, Calamity Jane. I think for once I have to agree with you about your name choice! So I'll see you that and raise you …a middle name: Zachary Patrick Rizzoli."_

_Still holding the baby between them, Jane put one arm around Maura and pulled her in for a kiss. "Sounds perfect."_

_Maura was about to ask to hold him when Magnum let out a booming bark as loud as a canon. His size seemed to have doubled as he hunched protectively in front of Jane and Maura, a growl emanating from his throat and his muscles taut. Maura followed the dog's gaze and saw Riley standing in the yard, dressed as Jake Wyatt, gun out and pointed at Jane._

"_Give him to me," she said steadily. "Hand over that baby and nobody will get hurt."_

"_This child is ours," Jane said, her voice soft yet strong, somehow. She carefully transferred the baby to Maura's arms, and took a half-step in front of her. Maura looked around at the crowd, but nobody offered their help. Korsak, Frankie, and Frost were nowhere to be seen; Tommy was staring at Jane with a look of intense distrust. Jane cleared her throat, holding up white-gloved hands. "I mean it, Riley. The baby is mine. Mine and Maura's."_

_Riley's lip curled. "You think you're man enough to be the father that boy needs?"_

"_I'm human enough to be the parent he deserves."_

_Riley just laughed and cocked her gun. Maura waited for Jane to retaliate and pull out her own firearm, but instead, Jane drew the only weapon she had when Riley stepped closer: a saber. Maura tried to step forward, but Jane gently held her back with a trembling arm, saber still held aloft. _

"_Don't be a fool, Jane," Riley scoffed, nodding at Jane's weapon. "You know __that__ can't compete with __this__." She twirled her pistol for emphasis. "Now are you going to hand over that baby, or do I have to kill someone to make a point."_

"_Down!" Jane yelled when it looked as though Magnum was ready to spring at Riley. _

_And then she swiftly swung the saber forward, but was still too slow: a shot rang through the air and Jane collapsed immediately. Riley nonchalantly reached for Zachary, pulling him out of Maura's arms as the woman stood there in open-mouthed shock. She barely registered the sound of Riley riding off on Jane's horse as she herself fell to her knees, clasping Jane's hand between both her own._

_Or…Jake's? His signature mustache and goatee were in place, although Maura could've sworn they hadn't been there before. _

"_Jane—Jane, please…"_

"_I'm sorry," Jane gasped, her grip tightening on Maura's hand. "I tried so hard for you, sweetheart. I really, really tried." _

_"Jane, don't… you're going to be…"_

_ Her words trailed off as she realized she was talking to a corpse. Jane was not breathing. Maura dropped her hand and it fell without resistance. Blood was invisible, seeping into the red sash tied around Jane's waist. Maura gingerly took the saber out of Jane's hand and got to her feet, dragging it on the ground alongside her. And she began walking. She took the road Riley had somehow long since disappeared down, and she walked until her feet should have bled. She walked until Hollow Creek was long behind her, but instead of another town, there was nothing. Just dry land. Just her and that saber and she was somehow wearing Jane's Union officer gloves as she walked, eternally._

Maura's eyes suddenly snapped open, and for a moment, she could not breathe. Her hands were twisted in the sheets on either side of her, clenching almost painfully at the material. The room was pitch-black, and Maura blinked rapidly, as if that would help convince her that this was, in fact, reality—and more importantly, what she'd just experienced had only been a nightmare. She breathed in sharply and turned to the left, and there was Jane. Her form was just distinguishable in the dark, rising and falling with her gentle breathing. Alive. Well.

Maura let out a relieved breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and her hand slid up to her mouth to stifle it. Her heart was racing as she tried simultaneously to remember what she'd just dreamed and forget it all at once.

Was this how it felt for Jane every time she had a nightmare? This terror that she would be unable to ever shut her eyes again? The gnawing pit of fear scraping at the walls of her stomach, the taste of bile in her throat?

But Jane was here, she was alive. That had all been a dream, and nothing else. There was no point in waking her; that would be childish …wouldn't it? Just as the thought occurred to Maura, she saw Jane stir in her sleep. She mumbled something. In the few times Maura had woken up at night, she had occasionally witnessed this: Jane talking in her sleep. Not much, and not always comprehensibly, but she did. Frost said he'd never heard her do any such thing, and Maura wasn't sure what to make of the implication that Jane had only started doing it since they started their life together.

Maura leaned over, ready to wake Jane up if it sounded like a nightmare.

"Mm… you're right. Tighter's... better. Mm." Jane's pillow was not beneath her head, it was in her arms, and she squeezed it. "Yeah… s' good. Mmm…" She grunted a bit when Maura gave her a light shove. "Shh," she mumbled, suddenly tensing. "It's my wife."

"_Jane!_"

At the sound of her name in such a sharp tone, Jane instantly awoke. Her hand dove into her pillowcase and pulled out a two-barrel pistol. "Whatsa matter?" she slurred, sitting up.

"What were you just dreaming about?" Maura demanded.

Jane blinked hard. "_What?_" When Maura repeated the question, she sighed heavily and stuck the gun back her pillow, realizing there was no danger. "Nothin', Maura, just leave it."

But Maura was fully awake now, sitting up straight as Jane mushed her pillow into a comfortable shape and rested her head on it. "I will not just leave it, Jane! I saw you groping that pillow, and I heard you well enough to know it wasn't supposed to be me! Jane! _Jane!_"

"What?!" Jane half-shouted, vaulting back up to face Maura. "Jesus, Maura, it was _a dream!_"

"Dreams are all grounded in some facet of reality," Maura argued back. "Who was in that dream with you?"

"Good Lord, _Maura…_!"

"What? Tell me what you dreamt about—unless you have something you're trying to cover up!" When Jane huffed loudly and swung her legs over the side of the bed, Maura asked, "Where are you going?"

"Away from you paranoid ass," was the eloquent response.

They were now separated only by the bedroom door, as Jane merely threw herself onto the sofa in the sitting room. She lay on her stomach and squeezed one of the sofa pillows between her legs, groaning slightly into another pillow. Dimly she regretted the tone she'd taken and knew she probably should've just told Maura the truth, but frankly she was sort of offended that Maura would take something like this so seriously. Maybe she was stressed and maybe she was tired, but still, she ought to have just been able to laugh off anything she heard.

The only reason Jane didn't feel entirely guiltless was because she was still hiding something from Maura. The dream had taken place in their cellar, and had been a somewhat exaggerated version of the first time Jane had tried on the accessory Riley brought her. Only in the dream, Riley was physically helping her on with it, and watching as Jane practiced her movements—using, in fact, a pillow. In the dream, Jane had stopped when she'd heard Maura's voice at the top off the cellar stairs, frozen with anxiety. She wasn't ready for Maura to see it yet, and she certainly wasn't eager for Maura to come down and see her wearing it in Riley's presence.

And now pride was mostly the only thing that kept Jane from going back to bed. Maybe she was keeping something from Maura, but it sure as hell wasn't an _affair_, and it annoyed her to think Maura believed it possible.

Really, though, Maura was just hurt by bad timing: she had just awoken from a very emotional, very frightening nightmare. To wake up and sense that Jane, her beloved, had been dreaming of being with somebody else? Perhaps it was childish, but Maura couldn't help feeling upset.

What didn't help was the fact that they hadn't made love in over a week, ever since they'd gotten back from Colt City. Jane had been practically living at the Sheriff's station, and the one day she'd been home early, she went straight to sleep. Another night, they both woke up very early in the morning, and Maura thought maybe she'd gotten a chance. But Jane allowed her only a few moments' worth of kisses before tiredly patting her back and saying "not now." It wasn't that Jane had stopped being affectionate altogether, or that she was shutting out Maura completely; it was just odd for her to refuse intimacy like this for what was a long time for them.

Neither of them slept particularly well for the rest of the night, and when Maura woke up the next morning and saw that Jane was still sleeping, she strongly considered waking her up to apologize. But ultimately she decided against it, giving Jane the much-needed sleep and herself the time to think up a proper way to conjure a dialogue.

Jane woke up about an hour after Maura had left for her morning house calls. Her neck was stiff and her side burned from where it had been pressed an empty sheath that had fallen into the sofa. Pretty quickly she ascertained that Maura was gone, and she sighed as she got dressed for the day, wondering if she should've just manned up and talked to Maura. But part of her still couldn't help feeling like _she _was the wronged one, and that Maura should've at least left an apologetic note of some kind.

Just as she was about ready to leave the house, a knock sounded at the door. For a moment, Jane wondered stupidly if it was Maura, only to remember pretty quickly that there was no reason for Maura to have knock on her own door.

"Well what a lovely way to be greeted this early in the morning," Adelaide remarked, when Jane opened the door with a scowl.

"Don't take it personal, Addie, it just ain't my day," Jane grumbled.

"That much is apparent from the ensemble you've chosen to put together," Adelaide said, clicking her tongue at Jane's outfit. "My good woman, hasn't anyone—hasn't Maura—ever told you never _ever _to wear a tie and a pocket square that are the same color? Especially that yellow; it gets lost in the beige of your vest."

"Colors ain't exactly a priority right now," Jane muttered, though she fumbled with the cross-tie anyway, removing it in annoyance.

"Yes, I passed Maura in town," Adelaide said.

"Yeah? Good for you."

In lieu of having no ruler on her person, Adelaide slapped Jane's disrespectful head and pointed at her aggressively. "I won't have any sass from you today, Jane. I've come to tell you something very important, and I'll be darned if I have to leave because you're rude to me at the first."

"Something important? What about?"

"An old case I believe you were interested in."

Jane's eyes narrowed. "A…which is that?"

Adelaide invited herself in, waltzing across the floor to the sofa Jane had slept on last night. She beckoned imperiously for Jane to follow, and the deputy warily did so, settling on the chair near the end of the couch. Picking at some imaginary dust on the cushion next to her, Adelaide cleared her throat. Jane thoughtlessly cracked her knuckles.

"Do you remember that school teacher you used to loathe so much?" Adelaide asked, her eyes on the floor. "A Miss Dolores?"

"How could I forget her?" Jane snorted. "Woman made my life a living hell."

"I didn't care for her myself," Adelaide said. "She spent far too much time with my sister."

"Your sister," Jane said slowly. "Which one did…" Her eyes widened slightly. "Kathleen?"

"Kathleen. The one who never married. The one who ran away."

Jane's mouth hung open slightly, and she straightened up in her chair. "So—did you hear from her? Did she… what, tell you she saw Miss Dolores, or somethin'?"

"No," Adelaide said lightly. "I haven't heard from Kathleen for nearly twenty years. Not since she and Dolores ran off _together_." She looked pointedly at Jane, and saw realization finally register in those dark brown eyes. Jane leaned back in the chair, suddenly anxious about sitting this close to Adelaide. Addie, though, leaned closer to her. She pulled a small slip of paper from her sleeve, and handed it to Jane. It was a photograph of an empty room—a beautifully decorated room, but with no people in it. "You see this? That was to be Kathleen's first portrait. She was twenty-two at the time. But she refused to sit for it unless Dolores was allowed to be photographed with her."

"And Mr. Johns didn't want two people in the picture?"

"_I _didn't want two people in the picture," Adelaide said, practically through her teeth. She swallowed hard and avoided Jane's gaze, keeping her own eyes on the photograph. "I had told Kathleen time and again that she would never get married if she didn't start spending more time with men and less time with her best friend. I had gone to Dolores and asked her to please see the truth in this, and to please encourage Kathleen to start spending time with other people. Both of them refused. And Kathleen did not show up for her portrait, because I would not allow Dolores to be in it with her."

Jane found it hard to speak. Her voice didn't sound like her own when she meekly said, "You took the picture anyway."

"The room had been set up nicely. I liked it. I liked the arrangement of those flowers, for instance."

"So…" Jane flitted the photograph restlessly.

Adelaide took it from her. "So one night Kathleen did not come home. You know she lived with me and Mr. Johns at the time, and perhaps she'd spent many nights elsewhere, and this was the first I'd noticed of it. I went to Dolores' house to see if maybe she knew where Kathleen had gone, and… well, I suppose it's my fault for not having knocked first, but… I saw this woman in my sister wrapped in quite a familiar embrace."

"How familiar?" Jane asked weakly.

Addie sighed. "They were kissing, Jane. As a husband and a wife might kiss. They were wearing traveling clothes, and there was luggage on the floor. I did not ask them to stay, to reconsider. I did not beg my sister to remain. I told her never to write to me once they'd gone." Adelaide's voice had gotten weaker, and for the first time, she actually sounded as old as she looked—which, Jane realized, was older than she ever had seemed in even the recent past. It was reedy, and when she took a deep breath, it rattled. "My youngest sister, Jane. My responsibility. My own. And I let her leave."

Jane kneaded her hands together, staring at the same spot on the floor that Adelaide herself had claimed. "You're sorry you didn't stop her from throwin' her life away, huh?"

"I'm sorry I didn't just turn a blind eye," Adelaide responded. "I know that you, Jane, of all people, can appreciate the importance of family. That it is not to be taken for granted. Sometimes our families do bad things. Sometimes they take actions we cannot understand, and do not wish to understand. I had no control over Kathleen and the choice she made. But I did have control over myself, and how _I _chose to act in response. Coldly. Cowardly." She straightened up, inhaling deeply as she considered the empty photograph once more. "You know," she said casually. "Your Maura resembles Kathleen quite a bit, if I remember correctly."

"You ain't gonna tell me I look like Dolores, are ya?" Jane asked with a weak laugh.

"Heavens, no. You're a sight more handsome than she ever was, Calamity Jane!"

They chuckled uncomfortably over that, and Jane finally caught the old woman's eye. She was hesitant to say much else, afraid that Addie was about to reveal she felt that Jane was holding Maura back, that she ought to leave. Or maybe that they _both _ought to leave.

"I hate to think that I chased my own sister away," Adelaide said. "I know my attitude did not help, and I… I would hope to provide some sort of balance of justice by standing by your side. I should like very much to take a proper portrait of the two of you, if you'd let me."

She pulled another photograph from her sleeve and handed it to Jane, pressing it into her palm before getting to her feet. As Adelaide walked towards the door, Jane looked down at the picture, which she only barely remembered taking: she and Maura had been on their way to confront Angela, and had stopped in at Adelaide's first. An open parasol, held over Maura's shoulder, kept them in silhouette from the shoulders up. A lump rose in Jane's throat as she saw they were practically nose-to-nose.

"Adelaide," she whispered, standing up and turning around. She did not go to the door. "How…" She had to wait a moment for emotion to pass, for the ability to get these words out without tears interrupting. "How did you know?"

"I didn't for certain," Adelaide admitted. "But suffice it to say I only _did _know for certain quite recently and quite innocently. Treat that woman well, Jane. For whatever reason, you have chosen her to cling to in this life. You'd better damn make sure it's worth it."

That was the first time she'd ever heard the old woman swear. "Addie? Um… if ya see Maura in town, will ya tell her to come home, please? I have somethin' to show her."

Adelaide nodded. "It would be my pleasure."

* * *

Jane was in the cellar when she heard the front door open above her, and she waited in trepidation as light footsteps crossed the wooden floor. Maura was checking the kitchen, the bedroom, and the window into the yard. "Jane?"

"Down here," Jane called, and she heard Maura start down the staircase. She took a breath to steady herself, and when Maura appeared, she let it out slowly. Maura was dressed in pale green, save for the dark-green jacket she customarily wore to work—the one that set off her eyes so beautifully. These same eyes looked to Jane, then down to the chair she was standing next to, and her eyebrows rose. "Uh…" Jane started. "I been workin' on this for ya."

Maura silently stepped forward, and her hand traced the top of the wooden chair. It would have been an unremarkable piece of furniture if not for the harp that had been intricately carved into the back of it, standing alone and looking as though a seasoned artisan had created it. Maura ran her thinly-gloved fingers over it, her mouth slightly open in awe of Jane's craftsmanship. She shook her head.

"Jane…Jane, it's beautiful."

She turned back around, and Jane kissed her. No apologies were needed on either side; they both knew they'd been foolish. Jane gently pushed Maura down into the chair, breaking off their kiss as she knelt in front of her.

"Is everything all right?" Maura asked nervously, reaching out to stroke Jane's cheek.

Jane gulped and took Maura's hand at the wrist. "I think so, yeah. I just also think you're gonna want to be sittin' down before I broach somethin' else…"


	37. All In

**A/N (please read)**: Well, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't been sort of agonizing over this all weekend. **Please **just know that I tried, and I tried very hard, to be true to the circumstances here. I was not out to be disrespectful, and I will apologize in advance for any ignorance. I truly hope nothing here is offensive, because I'd rather be a lousy writer than hurt anybody. On another note: I'm sure some of you already are aware of the historicity that's discussed in this chapter, but to others, be aware that I didn't really make any of it up. **Friendly reminder**: in the 1800s, words like "trans" and "lesbian" did not exist. Hence the sort of conversations and feelings that this strap-on produces. This isn't stuff they could look up online, discuss in a forum, or ask a trusted teacher or counselor about. For them, there are no precedents or fellow examples to turn to. Everything's new.  
Thank you for everyone who's been devoted enough to stick around for some reason. I hope it was worth it when this story eventually ends.

* * *

Maura had known Jane long enough to be able to recognize the various habits she employed when nervous, and all of them were currently on display: she was pacing, she was kneading her hands, she was chewing at her bottom lip, and her gaze was directed anywhere but Maura's face. The fact that she'd been doing all of this silently for nearly half a minute did not do much to assuage Maura's growing nervousness.

"Jane," she said quietly. "You're starting to worry me." Jane stopped in her tracks, hands clasped together, and she looked down at Maura. "Is it something about Jake?"

"Yeah. I mean no, but…yes."

Maura's eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry?"

Jane swore quietly and reached for Maura's hand, pulling the doctor up to her feet. "Maura," she breathed. "I wanna show you something." She grabbed a tightly-tied bag off the floor, took a breath to steady herself, and opened it. She felt strangely indecent showing this to Maura in the plain daylight, especially while Maura was still so nicely dressed. A lady. But Jane forced down the last of her fears and thrust the bag in front of Maura, who peered curiously down into it.

For quite some time.

She didn't even notice Jane's hands were trembling as she held the bag open. After about half a minute (or, in how it felt to Jane, an hour), Maura reached inside for the leather strap and pulled upwards, lifting the item out of the bag entirely. "Jane. Would you mind telling me how exactly this came into your possession?"

"Um…by way of Riley Cooper," Jane said. "She said some lady from Europe gave it to her. Wanted her to use it… on her."

"_On _her?" Maura asked, her eyebrows raising.

"Maura…do you know what this is?" Jane mumbled, her voice low even though there wasn't a soul around who could possibly overhear her.

"Of course I do," Maura replied. "It's a device prescribed by physicians to help cure women of their hysteria via paroxysms."

Jane's mouth fell open. "I'm sorry…what now?"

With a nervous sigh, Maura dropped the accessory back into the bag and looked up at Jane. She was already getting a little warm in the face just from using the medical terminology, and wasn't sure how to proceed without further blushing. Biting her lip, she took Jane's hand and led her up the stairs. After a moment's deliberation, Jane decided not to drop the bag, bringing it back to the first floor with her. They soon entered Maura' study, where she began rifling through a large wardrobe that held books instead of clothes. Sensing that this was going to take a while, Jane sat down at Maura's desk and waited anxiously, the bag clutched tightly as it rested in her lap. Eventually Maura turned to face her with a thick volume in hand. She showed the spine to Jane.

"_Nerve…_c'mon, Maura, y'know I don't know what any of that means."

Clearing her throat, Maura turned the book back towards herself and read, "_Nerve Vibration and Excitation as Agents in the Treatment of Functional Disorder and Organic Disease_, by Dr. Joseph Mortimer Granville. It was published only two years ago."

"Well, bully for Dr. Granville," Jane said uncomfortably. "What's it got to do with this?"

"Don't you even want to know where I got it?"

"I don't even know what it is!"

"It's one of the last texts I believe my father ever purchased," Maura explained, clutching the book to her chest. Jane understood it was due to sentimental value more than medical curiosity that Maura had kept this particular piece of reading. "Dr. Granville patented an instrument that would …well, that is… from what I've gleaned, his device has been abused and misinterpreted by many physicians in and outside his native England."

"What sort of device?" Jane asked warily.

"Its precursor is in that bag," Maura said, nodding at Jane's lap. "My father never made it his business to treat women with psychological ailments—"

"With what?"

"Sick minds," Maura explained, waving her hand impatiently. "Just women—and men—with sick bodies. But I once visited another doctor in town once, going along as Emily Hughes' chaperone of sorts before she was married. Her father said she was restless, and she suffered from anxiety, and he wanted a second opinion on treatment for her condition after my own father said there was nothing he could do for her. So off we went to Dr. Carter instead, and…"

"…_and?_"

"And I was in the waiting room," Maura said slowly. "And heard the most horrific sounds. From Emily, I mean. She screamed. And later, Dr. Carter opened the door to inform that she had fainted, and he was carrying her outside to put her in his own carriage so we wouldn't have to walk home. I went into his office before I went out, because I was sure I would find some sort of bizarre torture device, but all I saw…" She shook her head. "All I saw that seemed out of the ordinary in my context for a medical practitioner's office was something like _that."_ She pointed at the bag accusingly. "Without the straps, of course."

Jane raised an eyebrow. "Of course," she said with a shrug. "So…"

"According to the scant texts I've been able to get my hands on since, the procedure was intended to cure a disease that, according to many, is restricted solely to our fairer sex," Maura continued. "Hysteria. And it was cured by percussing the patient to produce a paroxysm."

Maura's wording almost made Jane laugh, but given the seriousness of Maura's tone, she restrained it. "Maura, you're doin' it again, your encyclopedia-talk. Use real words."

"A paroxysm is… it's, well, it's what you and I bring each other to several times on a nightly basis, except for this last week. And sometimes in the morning. And the afternoon. Er…" She finally saw comprehension overtaking confusion in Jane's expression. "Yes. In bed, typically."

"So…you're tellin' me doctors—"

"—don't actually do it themselves," Maura said, reaching into the bag and pulling Riley's gift out by the straps again. "They use one of these to simulate the stimulation, and there you are! You have women like Emily Hughes begging to go back for multiple treatments until they are married, or if they are facing dissatisfaction with intimacy in their marriages. However, I'm not entirely surprised that it has been appropriated for other means, given straps and the like, so I am…" She took a deep breath and straightened again, rubbing her forehead. "I just would like to know what your thought process has been in acquiring that item, and exactly what you intend to do with it."

Jane gulped but sat a little straighter, ready to stand her ground. "I was hopin' maybe to wear it."

"Wear it? Wear it and what else?"

Maura's agitated tone finally got Jane on her feet. "Maura, we talked about this a while ago, remember? I was prayin' for a way to make love to you that'd let me hold ya with both hands and be inside you at the same time. And this is it!"

"But why is that so important to you?"

"Why? Maura, it's just somethin' I want to feel."

"Jane, it's just that—that _thing _is a substitution for a piece of anatomy you do not possess, and I thought you said were all right with that! When we returned home from Boston, you swore that Jake was gone and every part of him was dead to you, and now you have plans to resurrect him again—"

"Only to kill him off for good!"

"—and you are pressing the issue of trying physically to be like him after you promised me that masquerading as a man was no longer of interest to you!"

"Maura, I ain't plannin' on wearin' this thing outside the house," Jane said hotly. "And it's as much for you as it is for me, speaking of Boston! Don't you remember that night before your mother came over to the house? You gave yourself a right good _paroxysm _on the sock I had stuffed down my pants! So don'tcha see? This is just another way to get us there, together, from any kind of position we want. It ain't 'cause I'm bored or I ain't satisfied with the intimacy in this marriage, 'cause I _love _you, Maura, and that's what matters. I just thought…"

Her voice trailed off as Maura shook her head slightly. "Jane, I have to go. I've got a house call to make on the other side of town, and I'll be late if I don't leave immediately."

She turned on her heel and exited the room before Jane could see the tell-tale hives break out on her neck.

* * *

"Rizzoli, you okay there?"

Riley's voice barely registered with Jane, but she sat up a little when the woman gave her shoulder a shake. They were sitting in Korsak's office with Frost, all gathered for a meeting as Frankie stood guard outside. But it had been clear since Jane had gotten there that she wasn't paying attention as much as she usually did; her gaze kept dropping to the floor and she was generally unresponsive when addressed. Frost had attributed it to her being nervous about the proposed plan, and when she did not refute the assertion that she was scared, Korsak knew something had to be amiss.

"What? Sorry, I'm here," she muttered, rubbing her eyes and looking at Korsak. "You said you heard back from Dr. Pike?"

"Yup," Korsak said gruffly, tossing the letter at Jane. "He works just outside of Colt City, and said he'd be all too happy to drop in there for a drink with me. I may have led him on a bit about the possibility of opening up his own establishment here …by promising Dr. Isles as his assistant."

"Well then," Jane snorted. "Ain't so much of a surprise that he's so eager to help."

"We'll arrange a drink at the Silver Spur, and Maura will come along to help seal it up. Then who'll make an appearance but that cad Jake Wyatt!" he said with a theatrical flourish, pointing at Riley, who held her hand up in mock celebration. "Silver Spur's a place for gentlemen, and I don't care how much the bounty on Jake Wyatt is worth—you ain't likely to find a soul in there brave enough to take on Jake. He'll ask for takers on a poker game, and that's where Jane comes in."

"Goody," Jane muttered.

Korsak didn't hear her. "Frost, you'll bring her, as you're the one who'll have found out somebody was going around posturing as your boss. Now, Jane. Don't start a scene in the saloon, all right?"

"I know. Take it outside."

"_After_ you make sure you've sold your legitimacy on everyone else. I don't care how you do it, but do it. You and Frost'll ride Riley out of town, far enough away that you won't have any onlookers—you know that stretch on the road towards Mesa? Well, stay off the road. Away from buildings, away from other travelers. Get so nobody'll see it comin' when Frost rides back askin' for a doctor."

"Because I won?" Riley clarified.

"Exactly. Don't you let on to the Sheriff there that you're a woman, though. He might feel kinda funny handing over the bounty that way. You're too young to be a veteran, so… let's make you a cavalry man. Tell him with your reward money, you'd have enough to send for your family and raise all your boys in Colt City. He won't be able to deny you that. Then you leave, take your share, and give the rest to Frost."

"How do we know we can trust this Dr. Pike?" Riley asked. "I mean, does he get a cut, or how come he won't spill?"

"He'll be drunk," Korsak scoffed. "Pike's good at acting like an ass, but a convincing doctor when he wants to be. He won't be able to resist the chance to check out Jake Wyatt's corpse."

"You saying he won't be able to tell?"

"I'm saying that if we set it up just so, we can make him believe Jane's dead without actually having to kill her," Korsak said. "The Sheriff knows him and knows he's generally a good doctor, so his word can be trusted. But we know him better. You just gotta play on his pride, and you'll have him the palm of your hand. Make it look like Jake Wyatt's dead, and the coward will say he's dead, just for the honor of being the man who called it first."

"And then I ride off back into the sunset, and Jake's gone," Jane muttered. "Yippie-kai-yay."

"Sounds fool-proof," Riley said with a shrug.

Jane rolled her eyes. "Ain't nothin' fool-proof," she said, getting loudly to her feet. "But it'll do. We done here, Korsak?"

"Day after tomorrow, we head out," Korsak said, also standing. He clapped an arm around Jane's shoulder. "Why don't you let me walk you to you horse, deputy?"

"I walked here."

"Well, I'll walk a ways with you, then." Before Jane could argue, he cheerfully took her elbow and dragged her through the swinging double doors outside his office. Frankie tipped his hat as they passed, and Korsak nodded, but Jane gave no indication she had seen her brother. As they started to walk down the street, Korsak asked casually, "You nervous, Jane?"

"No."

"It's just that you don't seem very excited about this plan. Which, by the way, was all your idea in the first place."

"Just ain't my day, Korsak," she muttered.

"Everything all right with the doc?" he asked, and he knew he'd hit it by the way Jane bristled. "I thought you said she was gonna be at that meeting. Said she wanted to be in on everything."

"She did. Does. I'll tell her what happened."

"Hey," Korsak said, stopping and putting his hand back on Jane's shoulder. Even though she'd been taller than him for some time now, it still felt a little funny to him that he had to look up at her. Right now she was wearing what Angela had always called her "wounded puppy dog look," which Korsak had to admit was an apt description. Jane's eyes had been tinged red when she'd arrived for the meeting, and Korsak couldn't help wondering if it was related to some sort of marital spat or … mourning for Jake? He nodded to the side, and they ducked into an empty alley way. "You be straight with me, Jane. You feel okay about this?"

"Yeah," she said a little breathlessly, though she didn't meet his eye. "Yeah, Korsak, I do."

"I hope it ain't out of line for me to say I'm a little worried about ya, Jane. I just mean that I know Jake's been a big part of your life for quite some time, now. It might be hard for you to let go of him."

"I been gettin' ready to," Jane said, cracking her knuckles. "And I can do it, Korsak. Ain't gonna be a problem, I promise. I'll be glad to be rid of him." Her features darkened. "He didn't exactly come from a happy place, Sheriff."

"Yeah, kid. I know. But…if you're nervous about it, you can tell me, y'know? I always …I always felt a little bad that I didn't go out looking with ya, Jane. It's not so much that I expected you _would _ask me, but when I found out you had a partner and it wasn't me, I felt like maybe I'd let ya down."

Jane's eyes widened in honest surprise. "_You? _Korsak, don't ever say that. You didn't let me down; _I _let _you _down. You saw me when I was weak. When I was nothin'. How could I ever—how could _you _ever think I'd have your back when ya saw Hoyt had taken the rug out from under me? Hell, sometimes I still can't believe ya hired me to—"

_"Jane." _She looked down and realized Korsak had both her hands in his own. "You were a kid when that happened, and you handled it braver than many a soldier I've known. Life socked ya in the teeth, and you spat 'em back out, waiting for the adult ones to grow in 'cause you weren't gonna just sit back and swallow that misery. _That's _what makes you a great deputy. That's how I know you're gonna pull off this job all right. That, and the fact that you've got someone waitin' for you to come home or come home to every night." He gave her hands a gentle squeeze. "Ain't that something, Jane?"

She gulped and took a step back. "Yeah, Korsak. It sure is."

* * *

Darkness had all but fallen outside when Maura heard the front door open. She took a deep breath, pulling the covers up over her mostly-disrobed body as Jane's familiar footsteps thudded along the wooden floor. They slowed upon realizing the bedroom door was ajar, the lamp lit inside. If Maura beat her home, she almost never retired; she was usually in the study. Tonight, given the attitude Maura had displayed earlier, Jane had expected her to be asleep or for the door to have been pointedly closed. But when she appeared in the doorway, Maura instantly caught her gaze. Jane removed her hat but did not take a step closer, leaning against the doorframe with a quiet sigh, her eyes never leaving Maura's.

And there it was.

There in that look was that quality, that utter Jane-like quality, which Maura had first fallen for. It was the look of a hard-worn, beat-up, angry, hurt, defensive individual giving her trust. Trusting _her _to do the right thing, to approach this the right way. It showed the streak of softness that ran through such a strong person, showed that her Achilles' heel was the only other person who saw that look. It was sorry and hopeful at the same time. It was desperate to give and desperate to receive. Everyone else saw somebody loud-mouthed, uneducated, simple. That look she reserved for Maura showed so much more. So much more intelligence and complexity, so much more room for true feeling than most people had ever assumed possible.

"Maura," she whispered. A gentle request.

Maura's voice was equally soft. "Come to bed."

She watched very closely as Jane strode into the room, unbuttoning her vest as she went. Out came the pocket watch that had once belonged to Maura's father, placed gently on the small table that housed Maura's jewelry box. Jane folded the vest before putting it away, then made quick work of removing her holster, belt, and shirt. With the same unusually routine patience, she put them away as well. Her corduroy pants were the next and last to go, as her union suit was typically all she went to sleep in. She pulled back the covers to slip into bed, and then froze.

Rather than her usual nightgown, Maura had stripped down only to a white camisole and her pantalets. But what caught Jane's attention was the thick bit of black leather clutched tightly in her hand.

Her voice sounded almost rueful when she suggested, "Put it on."

Jane wordlessly reached for the straps, working fast before Maura could change her mind. As Maura looked on, it occurred to her that Jane must have already tried wearing it, and perhaps that had been what Jane was dreaming of last night. _Well, so long as she didn't actually use it on anyone else… _Maura swallowed and frowned, her forehead creasing. The image was not particularly attractive to her, but Jane didn't give her much time to look before slipping into the bed. Maura rolled onto her back, and Jane took this as her cue not to make a move yet. She mimicked Maura's position, both of them staring up at the ceiling.

"I've had…time," Jane finally said, her voice sounding loud after so much silence. "I mean, I gave myself a _lot _of time to really get the feel of this thing, Maura. I shouldn't have expected ya to be all giddy about it the first time you saw it."

"You're right," Maura agreed, rubbing her arm. "Time to adjust would be nice." She cleared her throat. "Does Riley know why you want it?"

"Not…exactly, I don't think. For all she knows, it's to make my performance as Jake even more credible."

"What difference would that really make?" Maura asked, sounding skeptical.

"I dunno. Maybe it's like what Adelaide once said about you and your corsets. You don't really need 'em on account of your figure bein' so nice, and most people figure you ain't really got one on. But you wear it 'cause you feel like ya should, so the important thing is _you _know it's there, even if nobody else does." In bringing up Adelaide, Jane wondered if she ought to tell Maura what the old woman had confided in her earlier. If she ought to share the news that they had, somewhat incredibly, another ally in this town. But she didn't quite feel like engaging in a tangent about Adelaide right now—maybe in the morning. This moment was about something else. "So—anyhow… maybe Riley reckons it's like that. I'll believe in Jake more if I'm wearin' this, even if nobody else'll know the difference."

"I was afraid."

Jane looked over at her, but Maura kept her gaze resolutely upwards. "What?"

Maura licked her lips. Sometimes it was hard not to feel as strong as Jane. "I was afraid," she repeated. "Of physical intimacy. It's a childish insecurity, I know. But I remember visiting galleries with my mother as a young girl, knowing women not much older than me who were married. And we would we see these statues on display. Nudes. Nothing much vulgar about them, which is why they were permitted, but I remember feeling a little disgusted nonetheless. Well," she said thoughtfully, "disgusted is probably not the right word. But they made me nervous, uncomfortable. My mother laughed it off as my virginal, innocent self. Ladylike blushing and averted eyes. But I was afraid. I knew enough to know that at some point in my marriage, my husband and I would be unclothed and he would be…" She winced, still uncomfortable with the memory. "Inside me. And these statues, they always made it look so large and…" She knew she was blushing, and she felt embarrassed just to be relating this, even to Jane. "Intrusive."

"Maura, hey…"

Jane reached over, but Maura didn't notice, raising a hand to brush away a tear that had fallen unexpectedly. "When I got older, I didn't think of it so often, but it's only just occurring to me now that perhaps it's why I was all right with such a long courtship from Garrett," she said a little breathlessly, her voice rising slightly in pitch. More tears. Not from fear, from disbelief at the realization that perhaps her longing for another type of touch hadn't started only after she'd met Jane. "I was still thinking of that inevitability, and how I had once overheard one of my mother's friends saying men used that sort of intimacy for their own desires, their own pleasure, not the woman's. And my fantasies here, Jane, they always started with Jake but they melted into you because I didn't want _him, _I wanted _you—_"

Jane couldn't just watch any longer: she shifted over to Maura's side of the bed, reaching an arm protectively over Maura and pulling her in close. Maura gasped out a sob, cringing at her sudden emotion and also at the unfamiliar sensation of Jane's new extension brushing against her.

"Sh, sh, sweetheart," Jane murmured, brushing the hair out of Maura's face and kissing her forehead. She cradled her close, and Maura tempered her breathing to the steady beat of Jane's heart that she could both feel and hear in this position. "Maura. Look, it don't matter how bad I want this. If you don't, out it goes. I don't wanna scare you, or make you uncomfortable, or God forbid _ever _hurt you. Okay?" She kissed Maura's forehead again, longer this time. "But if you think you could give it a chance, Maura, I promise to stop the _second _you ask me to. Sake's alive, dearest. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I ever hurt you."

Maura just nodded, swallowing more tears. "I know," she said thickly. "It was just so surprising this morning, Jane. You caught me off my guard, and all I could think about were all these fears I'd harbored for so long. It probably sounds irrational and silly, I know…"

"Silly? Not you, Maura. Not ever. That was careless of me."

"No," Maura said softly. She had mostly calmed now, with Jane's arm curled around her shoulder. Her breath hitched slightly as she ran her finger down Jane's chest, ending with her hand at Jane's waist. "If you were a man, Jane, I don't think it would've mattered. I would still have fallen in love with you."

"I don't think Mr. Fairfield woulda let you spend so much time with me if I'd been a man," Jane said.

"He didn't want me spending so much time around you as a woman," Maura pointed out. "So it was inevitable, Jane. You'd have given me the courage not to settle. I feel attracted to you physically, and I feel tied to you emotionally. If you feel out of sorts, I want you to talk to me about it. I don't want you to ever struggle through anything on your own, be it a battle or confusion."

"I ain't so confused anymore," Jane muttered, turning her head away. "Had a talk with Korsak today, and it really hit home for me. I liked bein' Jake more than I let on. I liked the respect I got for it, I liked makin' men feel weak compared to me. I liked makin' 'em think maybe there was someone who was stronger than them, smarter than them, one step ahead. Someone their wife would like, maybe. But all of that, it's…" She shook her head as if trying to clear it, closing her eyes and tightening her grip on Maura's shoulder. "It's chicken feed compared to how I feel when I see you. You, lookin' at me, with respect in _your _eyes. That's all I need, Maura. That's _all _I need. This thing here, it don't mean I wish Jake could always be with me. I don't. I don't wanna pretend to be somethin' I'm not."

"An outlaw?"

"A man. People used to joke I had to be one if I didn't wanna be no lady, and I got it in my head that I could only ever really get respect and have any kinda power or control over my own life if I acted as much like one as possible. Hell. I can't ever be President. I can't ever be a soldier. I can't help the woman I love give birth. But." She looked back at Maura, whose eyes were brimming with tears again, her hand reaching for Jane's free one under the covers. "I am a deputy. I got the respect of my community. And I have the smartest, sweetest, most beautiful woman this side of the Rockies right next to me for the long haul."

And there was the other glorious aspect of Jane that had sealed Maura's devotion to her. For all of Garrett's education and exposure to great minds both creative and technical, he had never quite been able to sweep Maura off her feet. Jane had a way with words like nobody else Maura had ever known. She had always thought it silly when her girlfriends would swoon over poetry or lyrics delivered by a well-dressed boy. She had just never expected her own swooning to overcome her thanks to a woman in fringed buckskin.

Maura rolled on top of Jane, engaging her instantly in an open-mouthed kiss, her hands grasping Jane's shoulders. Jane sat up a bit, her hands automatically reaching for Maura's hips, and Maura winced. They broke apart, Jane looking concernedly at her.

"You're sure you're all right to try this?" she asked.

Looking steadfastly back into Jane's eyes, Maura nodded. "I know you, Jane, and I trust you. I should've trusted you from the start about this. Only maybe…"

"Yes?"

"For the…for the first time…" Maura shifted onto her back, gently pulling Jane over on top of her. Jane's hands were at the pillow on either side of Maura's head, propping herself up as she looked down at Maura. She realized her fists, curled into the top of Jane's union suit by her shoulders, were trembling slightly. This almost _was _like a first time, for all the nerves she felt.

But there was an edge of excitement to them now—now that she understood Jane's motives fully. She was not trying to compensate. She was not trying to do this because she was afraid after all this time, Maura wanted a man and a man's touch. She was not trying to be more dominant, or trying to stave off boredom in their relationship.

"Slowly," Maura requested softly, almost shyly.

"Of course," Jane whispered, leaving a kiss on Maura's neck. Her hands reached for the waistband of Maura's pantalets as she kissed her neck again, and Maura's arms lifted to encircle Jane's shoulders, keeping her close. "And if it don't feel right…"

"I'll tell you," Maura promised, her legs wrapping themselves loosely around Jane's hips. "Now, Jane."

"What?"

"Once you've adjusted it...put your hands on me. Both of them."

* * *

It was not entirely painless, and it was not perfect, but it did not feel wrong, either. There was a new dynamic to get accustomed to over time, a new way of moving their bodies together, of feeling and being felt. In this way, it was not totally unlike the first time they had ever made love: Maura knew their bodies had to be broken into it, in a way, to an intrusion that only couples knew. They had to be eased into it, and once a proper rhythm (as it were) was established, it become more and more enticing.

By now, their relationship had reached a point where they knew each other's bodies like the backs of their own hands. They weren't shy about communicating in the act, asking or acquiescing. Jane shifted when asked, moved as Maura delineated, and went with her instincts otherwise. Most importantly, Jane listened when Maura, her hands burning from pulling at Jane's straps, said she couldn't take anymore.

And yet, when Jane had unbuckled the straps and dropped it over the side of the bed, Maura seemed to catch her second wind. She rolled on top of Jane again, kissing her with the kind of uncalculated desperation that comes only when the mind is unable to focus on anything more than _you, me, together. _It was a message Jane more than understood, and they made love like they always did.

"Jane," Maura panted, the name slipping out of her involuntarily as it had already several times that night. "Jane!"

"Louder," Jane groaned, gripping Maura tightly and kissing her neck hard.

"J—_Jane!_"

From outside, Magnum started barking.

It didn't take much longer for Maura to collapse for good, all but gasping for breath as she lay on Jane like a deadweight.

"See?" Jane whispered, rubbing Maura's back gently. "Still just me."

"Still just you," Maura breathed, going in for one more kiss. "Who would guess… Jane Rizzoli has pleased more women than even the legendary Jake Wyatt?"

"I've only pleased the one," Jane said quickly.

"Exactly," Maura laughed, brushing her finger against the cleft in Jane's chin.

Jane grinned, taking Maura's hand and lifting it to her lips. "We finalized the plan today," she said after a moment's pause. "Day after tomorrow, Colt City. You, Korsak, me, Frost. And uh, Dr. Pike."

"You'll tell me the details tomorrow?" Maura half-yawned. "I'm afraid I won't be able to digest much if you told me tonight. And it's well I'll have the day's rest before we go, too. I'm afraid I might not be able to walk tomorrow." She smiled to herself when Jane chuckled, kissing her forehead. "I think this will be good, Jane. Not just because of the reward money for Frost, but for you, too. Jake, your past, won't be able to hurt you anymore." Jane was a little surprised when Maura laughed lightly. "Tommy said whenever Jake died, women would be in mourning all over the country."

"Not this one," Jane snorted. "I'm glad to be rid of him too, Maura. I dunno if I'd ever had the courage to let go of him if it weren't for you. Not just 'cause you helped us find Hoyt, either. You gave me courage I didn't think I ever had. I believe a lotta things I dunno if I'd ever even thought of if you hadn't believed in me first."

"Like what?" Maura asked, tired but interested.

"Like I told ya, I don't need to hide behind Jake for respect." Jane sighed deeply, contentedly. "Now I figure if a woman wants to be a legend, she oughtta go ahead and be one."

* * *

**A/N**: Yup, that last line there is a quote attributed to the real Calamity Jane. It felt fitting. By the way, after conversing with a couple of people, I decided to go back to the final chapter of the first CJ and slip in a bit more detail concerning the ladies' first ... well, time. Check it out if you're interested. Also, if you're an NCIS fan, I've been working on a crossover ("Situation Normal All Fouled Up") that deals with Jane and Kate Todd hitting it off nicely. It's been fun to do so far, so go to my profile and give it a look if that's your thing :)

Also, that bit with Maura talking about statues...I didn't quite make that up. When one of my friends came out to me a couple of years ago, she told me she'd had those feelings the first time she went to an art museum (when she was 14), and it had felt weird to think about and sort of embarrassed her. And then when she realized a few years later that she was gay, she laughed and said that was one of the experiences that should have helped really tip her off.


	38. One for the Money

**A/N**: Thanks for the support on that last chapter, guys. And now, on with the plot. Also, I think a Xena quote may have found its way in here...

* * *

The next night, Maura woke up with the unusual sensation of Jane half-lying on top of her. If they were feeling particularly cuddlesome, Maura was always the one who lay over Jane, one leg wrapped around both of Jane's and her head cradled against Jane's shoulder. Jane would curl an arm around her, completing the picture. To have it reversed was a foreign feeling, although not an altogether bad one. There was something sweet about it, in fact.

What _was _startling was the sound of nature outside. It hadn't rained much in all the time Maura had ben in Arizona, and when it had, it'd been very sparse indeed. This sounded like a maelstrom out of a story by Hans Christian Andersen: the wind raged and howled like a living creature, beating against the widow like a canon. A canon, and the rain—possibly even hail?—thundering down like a barrage of bullets. Maura couldn't fight a shiver, suddenly feeling wide awake, and Jane (still sleeping) tightened her grip. Dimly Maura wondered if the dogs' houses had been blow away, or if they, like Jane, were sleeping through it all.

The wind was stronger than Maura had even guessed—a branch was banged against the window, and the nearest tree was several yards away from the house.

Jane woke with a start, tensing on instinct. One knee rammed into Maura's side, and with a startled expression, Jane tried to sit up. But she felt too weak. Her limbs were trembling, and it was all she could do to keep herself propped above Maura. Eyes searched each other out in the dark.

Maura tentatively reached upwards, cupping Jane's cheek. Jane wordlessly took Maura's hand at the wrist, moving it to her lips so she could kiss the palm. She was breathing deeply, like she'd just run a great distance. Then she dipped her head, Maura assumed for a kiss, but Jane went further, resting the side of her head on Maura's chest. This way, the sound of her heartbeat easily drowned out the noise of the storm. Maura realized Jane's fingers were resting at the pulse point on her neck, while the ones on her other hand still clasped Maura's wrist.

Jane felt as much as heard it when Maura questioningly said her name. She leaned upwards again, lying on her side as close to Maura as possible, one arm draped around her.

"Does the real world get into our dreams?" she whispered.

"I don't know," Maura admitted softly. "The study of dreams isn't an exact science." Pause. "Why do you ask?"

Sighing heavily, Jane finally let her body relax. "All that noise outside? It got into my head, into my nightmare, I think," she said. "I dreamed we were in Colt City, caught in a crossfire. And all I could think was that I had to find you. When I finally did, you were tryin' to cover this kid, this little boy. I was bleedin' out, but I couldn't leave ya. I couldn't. Not when…"

Maura gulped, taking strong hold of Jane's arm. She put it together: Jane had been lying over her like that because in the dream, it had translated to physically protecting her from harm.

"You scared?" Jane asked. "About tomorrow? Or—later today, I guess I should say?"

Maura nodded, but Jane couldn't make it out in the dark. "Yes."

"I reckon you'd be crazy not to be. Maura…if you don't wanna go, I'll understand. We all will. Hell, _I'd _feel a lot better if you stayed back. Not that I don't think you could take care of yourself if needs be, 'cause I know ya could—I mean, you went with me to help catch Hoyt, but …I really feel like you're needlessly endangering yourself here."

"It's not needless," Maura insisted. "For my sanity's sake if nothing else, Jane, I need to be on hand when all this happens. I'm not leaving you. End of discussion."

Jane smiled weakly. "Bossy."

"My logic is fearsome, renowned from the East coast to the West," Maura joked in a low voice. She smiled at Jane's weary chuckle, but sobered up fairly quickly. "We both know I'm not in any real danger, Jane. Riley's the one taking the actual risk."

Jane had to grant her that one. It was a scenario she and Korsak had gone over with Riley several times: no matter how prim Colt City seemed, there was still a chance somebody might try to take her out. Riley grimly accepted this, explaining that she'd already suited up as Jake Wyatt, risking it all for some money. At least this time, she'd be on the right side of the law.

When Jane shifted to get up, Maura asked concernedly where she was going.

"Cellar," Jane gruffly replied. "I don't wanna keep you up—I ain't gonna be able to fall back to sleep now, Maura. Not with this storm goin' on top of everything else."

Maura tugged on the sleeve of Jane's undershirt. "Try," she choked out. "Please, Jane, try. I don't want you to be alone tonight."

"Why," Jane snorted. "Afraid I'll do something _crazy?_"

"You know that isn't it," Maura chastised her. She went for the only tactic she knew Jane couldn't refuse: "_I _don't want to be alone tonight. Please." That did it. They were facing each other, lying on their sides; Maura hooked her leg over Jane's waist, and Jane's hand rested at her thigh. "Kiss me, Jane. Kiss me as if…" Emotion briefly halted her speech, backing up the words in her throat. _As if it were the last time. _Too grim. Not a helpful prospect. "As if it were the first time."

Jane's eyes had adjusted somewhat to the dark. It had been a while, she realized, since they had made love slowly. Lately they had fallen into a pattern of moving fast, frenzied, as if still making up for wasted time. Given the night, they might go several rounds, interspersing the quick and the needy—desperate—with something a little more relaxed …but not quite slowly. There was still always that feeling that they were merely building up to really get going, a high-strung excitement between them as they geared up for a new position or—in the case of last night, particularly—a new maneuver.

Jane missed taking her time.

She knew what Maura had been thinking of saying at first, and knew why she changed it. Jane had been on dangerous assignments before, and technically, they both knew she was in a profession that put her life on the line every day. But there was something significantly different about this. It was bigger than any deputy job. If things went smoothly, it would be the end of a very long and important chapter of Jane's life. If they didn't ...it would be big, it would be bad, it would be ugly.

No more taking things—time, people, strength, stamina—for granted. Least of all Maura.

_ Say her name as if it were the first time. Look at her as if it was the first time. Touch her, comfort her, kiss her as if it was the first time. Everything new. Everything just as incredible as it's always been, only maybe you've forgotten it a bit. Make sure she __knows__ for certain everything you feel for her. _

_ Just in case you never get another chance._

"Maura Dorothea Isles." There was so much she wanted to say, books' worth, plays' worth, epic poems—but seeing Maura's breath catch beneath her took them all away and it didn't matter. "I love you."

Maura returns the words, but her voice is so quiet that it is lost easily in the sound of the tempest raging outside. But Jane saw her lips move, and knew the sentiment was being reflected. She traced her fingers in a straight line across Maura's cheek, brushing the freckles she knew were there. After a moment's deliberation, she settled herself between Maura's legs, lying on top of her. Every part of her felt perfect.

She thinks of all the lackluster first kisses she'd ever had before Maura. All the awkward, obligatory movements. All the attempts to make it right, to have it feel good for either of them. To make it be something she liked, but she never quite did. There were worse things, to be sure, but it wasn't ever what she hoped. Not until she had kissed Maura for the first time.

Jane does not memorize passages from books or presidential speeches. Everything is based on memory, on feeling. She can remember every instant of that first kiss as well as Maura might be able to recall a medical procedure or a piece of music. How to emulate that feeling without making it a precise copy? Well, she wryly supposed, being in bed together was probably a good start.

Maura already felt weak from nerves, and it didn't help much when Jane brushed her thumb gently across her lips. Her first instinct was to draw it into her mouth, but Jane had already moved it before Maura could do much about it. The doctor wasn't about to complain, though; Jane leaned down and sucked briefly on her upper lip. Then the bottom. Pulling between her own. She pulled away and Maura's mouth fell open slightly, breathless, as Jane's hovered over hers. Jane waited, she didn't know what for—permission? A move? Nothing. She swept her tongue into Maura's mouth, rolling her hips forward at the same time. And there was that sound Maura made, somewhere between a gasp and a moan, her arms coming up to wrap around Jane's strong back.

Her fingers pressed hard, shifting down Jane's body before they came to rest at her hips, tugging her undershirt out from where it had been tucked into striped pyjama pants. Once the material was freed, Maura moved her hands under the shirt, tightly gripping Jane's bare skin. She could feel the scars. Whether they'd been gotten from falling off a horse or getting in a scuffle, she wasn't sure; she wasn't even sure where some ended and others started. They were there, they were a part of Jane.

The wind rattled the windows, and Maura was startled. Jane propped herself up, waiting to make sure Maura was all right to start again.

"Jane…"

"_Cara mia_?"

"It's only just occurred to me…" She gently traced the curve of Jane's jaw, moving over the cheeks that had become decidedly less hollow since Maura had come into her life. Her fingers curled slowly around Jane's neck, threading themselves through thick dark hair. "I don't know if I've ever told you just how beautiful I think you are."

Jane ducked her head, nearly laughing. "Sure you have, Maura."

"Not often enough."

"You don't _have _to say it often. Especially since you came into my life, I don't feel like that word quite fits my looks."

But Maura was shaking her head, stroking her thumb against Jane's cheek. "Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night."

"Was that Shakespeare?"

Maura beamed proudly. "Very good!" And Jane looked proud of being able to guess the reference. "You are exquisite, Jane. In every way."

"I felt like damaged goods," Jane said quietly, and Maura's smile slipped away. But her hands continued to move, now stroking down Jane's arms, over her hands, lightly massaging the knuckles and the veins she can feel. Jane continued with a shuddering breath: "Damaged goods. I never thought I'd be good for anybody."

"And now you know that isn't so," Maura said back, reaching up and pulling Jane down on top of her. She kissed her cheek once, twice. "You know it, Jane, you do."

"I do," she said, returning the kiss. "The only reason I do any good at all in this world is because I do it with you."

* * *

It was time to go, and Maura was nowhere in sight.

Riley was already en route to Colt City. Maura and Korsak were to leave together, then Jane and Frost would follow later. Frankie was very put out about being left behind, assuaged only when Korsak promised he would be allowed to come the next time a group of them went out of town. Jane and Frost were waiting with Korsak, each continually checking their time pieces, wondering what exactly was keeping Maura.

Jane had just checked her pocket watch for the third time when Frost nudged her. She slipped the watch (once Desmond Isles') into her top vest pocket and looked on as Wind Whistler came whistling down the road with her master on top. Maura's hair was not pinned up, and she appeared flushed as she dismounted her horse. Korsak started the process of attaching the horse to his carriage, and before Jane could tell Maura off for being later, she pulled her inside the Sheriff's office.

"Where's Frankie?"

"Guardin' the cells outside until Grant gets here. Maura, what's—?"

"I was afraid these wouldn't be done in time, but they are!" Maura said, opening a bag Jane had only just noticed slung over her shoulder. She pulled out two long, then sheets of what appeared to be banged-out metal.

"I…give up," Jane said, rubbing her neck and shrugging. "What are they?"

"When I was at the general supply store in Green Forge last week, I passed Giovanni's shop," she said brightly, although Jane couldn't help rolling her eyes at the mention of the black-smith. "His father apparently widened the family business to include iron working, by the way. Anyhow, as it is, there was a heap of scrapped furnaces on the side of the road by their shop, and I had a thought."

"You? _You _had a thought? Imagine that!"

Maura gave Jane a bit of a withering stare as Jane doubtfully flipped over the metal. "Is now really the time for sarcasm, Jane? I thought these could help you."

"Help me what, beat someone over the head?" Jane asked, miming the action.

"No," Maura said. "You could wear them. Like armor."

Jane stopped swinging them around and stared at Maura. "Are you serious?"

"Of course I am."

"C'mon, Maura," Jane chuckled, trying to hand them back to her. "Jake Wyatt ain't ever worn armor."

"Now that he's married, he will." Maura tried to make her tone a little more patient as Jane sighed and studied the scrap material. "You wouldn't have to wear them over your clothes. You'll be wearing layers, won't you? So put these underneath them all. Just think of them as another vest—they're even padded, look! Wasn't that a nice touch?" Noting Jane's continued look of distaste, Maura said, "What would it hurt, Jane? Your pride? That's an injury I'm willing to accept here if wearing these could lessen the blow of a bullet and certainly a knife."

Her tone indicated zero tolerance for nonsense, and Jane knew they were already running late. Now she saw the two holes that had been punched in each plate near the shoulders, presumably for a thin rope to be run through. No doubt Maura thought that covered everything. She probably hadn't considered the way this would feel once Jane was running, or riding a horse, or falling off of one. But there wasn't time to argue the issue—and besides, Jane knew Maura wouldn't leave without getting an agreeable response.

"Okay, I'll promise to try it," Jane said quietly, and Maura's countenance brightened considerably. "Although Riley's the one who'd be more likely to need it. I know how to take care of myself."

"Of course you do," Maura said, putting her hand on Jane's cheek. "That's why you listen to me."

She leaned up for a kiss, which Jane was quick to return. Neither of them listened when Korsak pushed through the swinging doors saying rather testily, "Dr. Isles, we've gotta—" And neither of them paid any mind when Korsak promptly turned on his heel to go back out the doors, saying in the same breath, "Okay, you're still sayin' goodbye, never mind."

A few moments later, Maura broke off the kiss, but kept both her hands on Jane's shoulders. "Be safe, Jane. Don't do anything reckless."

"Hey, I'll be fine," Jane said. "_You're _the one who'll have to sit through a drink with Dr. Pike. Hell, I'm gettin' off easy here." She smiled at the laughter this had elicited, and ran a shaky hand through Maura's hair. "Got some pins for this on ya?"

"Yes."

"Good. Um… hey, relax, sweetheart. You'll be gettin' a real show today."

"We aren't going to the show," Maura said, looking puzzled.

Jane furrowed her brow. "What?"

"What?"

"I… what show are you talkin' about?"

"The Wild West Show," Maura said blankly. "Didn't Frost tell you? Apparently there's going to be one going on in Mesa today. We'll be passing it. In fact, I think it's the same troupe that was playing in Boston while we were there. Isn't it funny, a show like that passing through here?"

Jane shrugged. "Not so unusual. Lotsa people, even out here, like bein' able to see marksmen fight off Indians and the like from the safety of some box seats. Hm… same troupe, huh?" She smiled devilishly, folding her hands behind Maura's waist. "Was that the one with that female sharpshooter whose picture we saw, then? Vivacious vixen… Valerie?"

"You cad," Maura scoffed, giving Jane's chest a light push. "I can't believe you remember what they called her!"

"Hey, it ain't my fault they use such catchy advertising!" Jane laughed. Maura frowned when they heard Korsak ask Frost very loudly for the time. "You'd better get goin'," Jane said, gently patting the small of Maura's back and nudging her towards the door. "I'll see you soon, darlin'. _Arrevederci_."

Maura blew her a kiss at the door. "_Aur revoir, mon amour_." She waved Frost to go inside the office as she left, and Korsak assisted her into the carriage. Off they went, and once they were outside of town, Maura began putting her hair up. "I apologize for taking so long, Sheriff. I wanted to ensure Jane … understood something I was giving her."

To Korsak it had looked mutual and like Jane had understood it quite well, but he refrained from making a comment. He guessed that Maura was feeling a little uneasy about the mission. "All right, but don't sweat today, Doc. Jane'll be fine. She'll be in good form, I'm sure. As it happens, I'm curious what it'll be like. I ain't ever seen Jane as Jake Wyatt."

"Yes you have. When we caught Riley the first time, remember? We went to Wohaw Springs."

"Yeah, but that don't count," Korsak said, waving his hand dismissively. "We didn't get to see her first confront Riley, and Wohaw's a Jake-friendly spot. Plus, she left us behind when she went past the town border. I ain't ever really seen her in _action_, y'know?"

"You sound more excited than I would have guessed, considering your hesitancy to allow this plan in the first place."

"I admit my interest is a touch wicked," Korsak chuckled. "I can't wait to see Pike piss himself in fright when Jake Wyatt walks in. He scared Jane for so long …I think it'll be good for her to have a chance to repay the favor. Don't worry, Dr. Isles. I've got faith in my deputies to pull through on this one."

_Well, so do I. It's everyone else I'm anxious about._

"Remember, Maura: just go along with whatever Jane lays out. And don't feel bad telling off Pike if you think he gets outta line."

As it transpired, Pike wore his welcome relatively early. Maura could take the smugness well enough, unattractive a quality as it was. So far as he knew, her reason for being there was to better back up Korsak's claim that they needed another doctor in Hollow Creek. Korsak did most of the talking, knowing of Maura's chronic inability to lie, and that seemed fine with Pike. He only occasionally glanced in Maura's direction, watching her nod, fake a smile, or take a sip of sarsaparilla. Of course he was dragging it out, wanting to make Korsak beg for his return. Especially wanting the pretty female doctor to tell him she desperately needed his help.

There went another drink.

Frost was inside the saloon, with the understanding that no drinks would be sold to him. Common enough. He was standing by the door, waiting for Riley to make an entrance, and idly thinking about Anna as the time passed. He had never gotten around to telling her the exact nature of this mission, wary of the conversation that would inevitably follow and how much time it would take. All she knew was that he was doing his job as a deputy, which was technically true. No doubt she'd have come along if he hadn't intimated that they were going very far away. He'd been impressed with how strong she had grown to be.

Thoughts of his wife were jarred away when Rondo suddenly came running through the doors. Nobody paid him any mind, but that was fine with him: once he caught Frost's eye, he hurried over and said in a hushed voice, "I just saw your man, Snow. Comin' this way."

"Who's that?" Frost asked, a little louder.

"_The man! _Jake Wyatt!"

Half the saloon went silent, and after a rushed flurry of whispers, the other did as well. But then chatter broke out among the tables, various people saying they'd heard rumors that Jake was in these parts, others already making an exit.

"If that rogue's on his way here, perhaps you'd best leave," Dr. Pike said to Maura. "I'll escort you off the premises, dear."

"Oh, but Jake Wyatt!" Maura said. "He's supposed to be terribly handsome, isn't he? I'd love the chance for one look at him!"

"The female mind and its priorities," Pike grumbled to Korsak, who nodded solemnly. "My dear girl, that look may be your last if you stick around."

A man sitting nearby threw in his two cents before Maura could reply: "I wouldn't worry about that, mister. Jake Wyatt don't hurt ladies. Hell, he don't hardly even look at 'em."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Korsak asked, noting the snide tone in the man's voice.

He smirked. "The way I hear it, he's turned down more women than he's picked up. Now what kind of man is that, I ask ya?"

"A gentleman." The saloon doors were kicked open, and Riley strutted in, dressed to the hilt as Jake Wyatt. That is, a more genteel version of Jake Wyatt: her attire consisted mostly of black-and-silver pinstripes, a pattern found on her vest, jacket, and trousers. Beneath the vest was a new crimson shirt, the sleeves rolled up as she removed her jacket and slung it over one shoulder. There were no spurs on her boots, which were shining black and fell hard with each step as she leaned against the bar. Her fake mustache of choice was slightly more curled at the ends than the one Jane wore. Attention was coming her way again: the frightened or impressed looks on the men, and the frightened or infatuated looks on the ladies. Both made her feel a bit queasy, but to look at her smug expression, you'd never know it.

The bartender dropped a glass. Riley tipped her hat at him.

"What brung you to town?" one patron finally asked.

"Wild West show in Mesa," Riley said, walking over to the man's table. His friends look petrified. "Mighty fine show. Thought I'd take a look around at the nearby towns. See if anyone hear would make for a good fight …in a poker game."

"You wanna play poker?" asked the man who'd spoken.

Riley shrugged. "You feel lucky?"

And she sat down to start a game before the bartender could point out that gambling was not allowed in this particular establishment. Not that he would have made himself heard.

Jane, meanwhile, was sitting wait on the roof of the building next door. Lying on her stomach, she could survey what went on below without being seen herself. She chuckled as she watched a substantial number of patrons trickle out of the Silver Spur, no doubt intimidated by Jake's very presence. After a while, she checked her pocket-watch. There was probably about two hours or so left of daylight.

_Show time. _


	39. Two For the Show

It was hard for Jane to remain serious when she entered the Silver Spur saloon and witnessed a hilariously collective double take. Everyone in the place was looking between her and Riley, and the scared, confused looks on their faces made her want to bust a gut laughing. But she kept her stony look in place: Jake Wyatt could appreciate a good joke, but would not enjoy being the butt of one. Riley, for her part, looked suitably intimidated, the way they had long since decided she should play it. Wearing an ugly grimace, Jane stepped further inside the saloon, and Riley's countenance took on a more determined expression.

In high contrast to Riley's dandy attire, Jane's clothes relayed the message that her lifestyle was rugged, unglamorous, and a bit dirty. She'd chosen to wear her oldest boots, caked at the bottom in red dirt, as well as her oldest hat, black and faded—and the perfect size to accommodate her pinned-up hair. A button was missing from her vest, her gloves were stained with ale (and blood?), and her belt looked as though it had a few nicks in it. Her matching blazer and trousers appeared to be the newest apparel she was wearing, all black.

"Well, well," Jane drawled, stopping at Riley's table. "What've we got here?"

"Looks like a fake to me," Frost said.

Riley made to stand up, but Jane whipped her hand from out of her pocket and forced Riley's shoulder downwards. "Sit down," she snarled, making the two words sound like one. "So you're the kid who's been goin' around posing as me, huh? That's some nerve right there." Riley's eyes darted around the room, and when she opened her mouth to speak, Jane just laughed. "Oh, don't tell me you're gonna try and deny it, son. You ain't gonna _sit _there and tell me to my face that _I _ain't who I say I am."

Maura spoke up. "And who are you?"

Jane turned theatrically to look at her, and anyone paying a scrap of attention could see the change in Jake Wyatt's expression. On the flip of a dime it had gone from distrustful anger to aroused curiosity. That look—the impressed smirk on Jane's lips, the raised eyebrow—and the way she swaggered over to the bar were not things they had rehearsed, and thus not things Maura was prepared to react to. This may have been best anyway, as a light ladylike flush started to heat the bottom of her neck.

After brazenly asking the question, Maura had demurely directed her gaze to the dusty saloon floor. Suddenly Jane was standing right next to her, fingers tucked beneath Maura's chin, forcing her to look upwards. There was something a little unsettling in Jane's dark eyes, a quality Maura didn't think she had ever seen there before.

"I think you know exactly who I am," Jane said quietly, and Maura was glad she was sitting, because were it not for the stool beneath her, she was sure those eyes and that voice and that touch would have sent her plummeting to the ground.

Instead, Maura glanced over Jane's shoulder, and this they _had_ rehearsed. She touched Jane's wrist, indicating a clear shot. Without turning around—without even tearing her gaze away from Maura —Jane whipped out her pistol and fired a shot over her right shoulder. The bullet had whistled right through the lip of the bottle Riley had been holding as she had tried to sneak out of the saloon when Jane's back was turned.

There was now no question in anyone's mind about who was the real Jake Wyatt.

Jane turned slowly on the spot, staring down Riley (who did look legitimately nervous, as she'd privately worried Jane would miss the bottle). "You sit back down if you don't want me to shoot a little closer to home next time," Jane growled, and Riley took the nearest chair. Jane sneered. "Where's your weapon anyhow, you miserable fool?"

"There's a law in this here town," Riley said. "You check your firearms with the Sheriff."

Jane threw her head back and laughed. "You think I'd listen to a law like that?" she cackled. "No, no. I don't think so." But the smile fell from her face when she heard someone at the bar mutter the word _coward_. She looked past Korsak towards Dr. Pike, fixing her gaze on him for the first time. An intense dislike filled her from head to toe, disgusted by his own cowardice as he refused to meet her eyes. She took a step closer to him. "What'd you just call me?" she asked.

Pike's eyes darted up at her for a second before reverting instantly to the bar. "Didn't say anything," he mumbled.

In a flash, Jane was at his side, grabbing him by the lapels and forcing him up off of his seat. "The hell you didn't!" she barked, setting him on his feet and giving his chest a shove. "You call me a coward to my face, old man, and I'll take on anyone in this bar you want. Gun, knife, fists, wits, you name it. I got it."

"Barkin' up the wrong tree, Jake," said Korask, and Jane turned to look at him. "The man don't mean no harm. And he don't know you. He's just a doctor."

Jane's hands flexed on instinct. She knew she owed them to Dr. Pike. The fact that she could still use them after what Hoyt did to her was a miracle, and it was Pike's work that had saved them. But she couldn't forget the way he'd leered at her after a time. The comments that always seemed to have a double meaning, the compliments that made her uncomfortable, the way he had in fact lorded it over her that without him, she would never have been able to use her hands again. That all made it hard to be grateful for any skills he might have employed in helping her.

"No man calls Wyatt a coward and lives without somethin' to remember him by," Jane said threateningly. She pulled a hunting knife from her belt, turned back to Pike, and rammed the blade onto the bar where Pike's hand had been a minute ago. "As it is," she drawled. "I'm feelin' generous today, so maybe I'll let that one pass." She looked around the saloon. "Anyone else wanna try and take me for a ride?"

"Cheyenne," one man finally said.

"Hm?"

"Cheyenne. I was there in '79 when Jake Wyatt killed Juan Delgado."

Jane smirked, tapping a scar near her left eyebrow. "Never did care for Delgado. Ain't fittin' for a man to start a fight by throwin' the head of a hammer at his opponent, if you ask me. Say, bartender? Bring me a whiskey. Anyhow—Delgado weren't very honest, when ya got right down to it. Weren't too good a shot, neither. I still can't figure how he got around to doin' so much damage in those parts."

"There's something I always wondered about," the man said slowly, as Jane took a swig of her drink. "Delgado said it all started when he found you in bed with his wife."

Laughing into her drink, Jane said, "Aw, hell, he thought she was a whore. Excuse me," she added, tipping her hat in Maura by way of apologizing for her language. "God knows I did that woman a favor by gettin' rid of him. But don't you believe what he said. I don't make it a practice to make love to a married woman." Her gaze drifted back towards Maura, and she winked at her. Smiling at the flustered look on Maura's face, Jane walked closer—indecently so. The hair on the back of Maura's neck stood up as she felt Jane's hard extension bump against her knee, through her skirt and Jane's trousers. "How about you," Jane whispered, her hand brushing Maura's leg. "Got a husband?"

Riley finally stood back up. "Now I say, Mr. Wyatt, stand down. I know you've only consorted with ruffians, but you ought to know a lady when you see one."

"Oh, I do," Jane husked, keeping her eyes on Maura.

"Then sir, I must ask you to step away."

"You must?" Jane snorted, sparing Riley a glance. "She ain't complaining, is she?" Licking her lips, Jane returned her glance to Maura and raised an eyebrow. "Are ya, sweetheart?"

Maura was supposed to reply with something, a sassy comeback or at least a vaguely scandalized retort, but her lips were parted and nothing was coming out. This had happened when she'd gone undercover as a showgirl with Jake Wyatt all those months ago, when Jane had essentially felt her up from behind. It had been a struggle to get out words at all, and that had been with Jane prompting her. Actually coming up with something herself in this state would be nigh impossible. Of course Jane was attractive to Maura constantly, but there was just something particularly arousing about this facet of her—perhaps because Maura subconsciously liked the opportunity to be a bit of a rebel in public, and being on the receiving end of Jake Wyatt's lascivious look felt deliciously rebellious.

She jumped when Jane whipped out her pistol again, shooting at a gentleman who had also apparently ignored the firearms law: he had hoped that with Jake's attention directed otherwise, he might have a good shot, but Jane shot the two-barrel revolver out of his hand with ease. A split second later, she had yanked Maura's fan from around the doctor's wrist and flipped it open, instantly halting the progress of a knife that had been flung in her direction.

Maura's heart rate was beating uncomfortably fast, but this was the sort of edge Jane used to live for. She let the knifed-fan clatter to the floor and addressed Frost.

"Ever seen a man get the drop on me, partner?"

Frost folded his arms and smirked. "I pity the fool who tries, Jake."

As far as Maura was concerned, this had gone on long enough and it was time for Jane and Riley to take things outside. When it looked as though Jane was going to take a menacing step towards the table that seated the men who'd just attacked, Maura reached out for Jane. One leg hooked around both of Jane's to pull her in, her hands on either side of Jane's face to bring her down for a kiss. It could have been quick, it could have been chaste, but before she knew it, Maura was using her "delicate, pink tongue" (as Pike had somewhat disturbingly referred to it) to tease Jane's mouth open and Jane was letting her. She smiled into the kiss, curving her hand around the back of Maura's neck, almost forgetting they weren't alone. Almost wishing they could just forget the whole plan and go find an empty room somewhere to actually _be _alone.

But then Maura broke off the kiss, though she otherwise didn't release her hold on Jane. "And how does Mr. Wyatt react when a _woman _gets the drop on him?"

Apparently Riley had seen enough at this point, and she went racing out the saloon doors. Frost went after like a shot, and that was Jane's cue to follow. However, she was suddenly finding it slightly difficult to leave as quickly as she'd intended. It was too easy to tell how nervous Maura was.

"Gimme a kiss for luck, sweetheart?" she asked with an attempt at a roguish grin.

Maura did her best to smile before honoring the request, and this one was a little more tender. I felt quieter, truer, the way Maura often kissed Jane goodbye before Jane left for a long day of work. This time Jane was the one to pull back, offering a soft gasp that only Maura could hear. She was afraid if she didn't stop now, she'd never want to, and she had to catch up to Riley in good time. Giving Maura's hand a squeeze, Jane headed to the saloon's swinging doors.

And stopped abruptly.

A tall, uniformed man had just pushed the doors himself, arms folded and a stern look quite at home on his face. He had obliged to the firearms law, as his holster was empty, but an officer's saber was tucked into his belt. While the uniform was not exactly in pristine condition, his various decorations were quite visible, and not just because his chest was puffed out. He was broad-shouldered, strong-looking, aged with experience. Serious, maybe deadly. But that wasn't why Jane had stopped.

She recognized his face, and she wasn't the only one.

Korsak spoke up behind her: "Lieutenant Cavanaugh?"

Piercing blue eye finally shifted past Jane, looking over her shoulder. "Korsak," he grunted. "Been a long time."

"I'll say," Korsak said weakly.

"How's the Creek?"

"Oh, not too bad. Probably would be better if you were still the Sheriff, but …I suppose you're doing all right defending our country in other places."

Cavanaugh lifted a white-gloved hand to salute Korsak with. "All right, yes. If I survive this, Vince, let's take the time to catch up. As it is, I need a moment." He looked expectantly at Jane. "Mr. Wyatt, if you don't mind, I'd like a moment of your time." He unfolded his arms and held up his hands. "You have my word as a gentleman that I won't try anything."

"A-and you have mine," Jane replied, fighting to keep her voice steady. "Um—Lieutenant."

The moment Jane and Cavanaugh left the saloon, chatter broke out immediately. Several women were working up the courage to ask Maura what it had felt like to kiss Jake Wyatt, and the bartender was trying to revive Dr. Pike, who appeared to have fainted.

"That man used to be the Sheriff of Hollow Creek?" Maura asked Korsak in a hushed voice.

"I was his deputy when Jane's father was killed," Korsak whispered back. He shook his head in disbelief, eyes wide. "He'd been a lieutenant in the war between the states, and tried quittin' the army for a while afterwards. Couldn't stay away, I guess."

"Is Jane going to be all right?"

"I think so. She respected the hell out of Cavanaugh."

That was putting it lightly. Growing up, Lieutenant Cavanaugh had been Jane's ideal of what a man ought to be. He wasn't affable and chubby like Korsak, he wasn't lean and poetic like her father; he was physically strong and largely aloof. He dispensed justice in a dispassionate manner, always got to the heart of matters in record time, and could intimidate most criminals into confessing. His flat but intense voice was the reason Jake Wyatt never resorted to yelling. He taught Jane to shoot with both eyes open, how to know who to trust.

She hadn't seen him since she'd turned sixteen. A local fire had taken out Cavanaugh's home, killing his wife and daughter. Shortly after that, he had decided to move on.

_"Please, sir, don't go!"_

_ "Don't worry, Rizzoli. The town's gonna be in good hands with Korsak in charge."_

_ "My parents are gone and I stayed! How come you can't stay?"_

_ He took off his black riding hat and tossed it to Jane. "Guess I ain't as brave as you."_

Riley and Frost had stopped upon realizing that Jane wasn't behind them. Hiding behind a tree on the outskirts of town, they watched as Jane followed a soldier up a nearby hill. "Should you go in after her?" Riley whispered.

Something in Frost's gut told him Jane wanted to handle this alone. "Lay low, wait for her to signal if she needs help."

Cavanaugh's steel-blue eyes swept the area to make sure nobody was within hearing distance. Once satisfied that he and Jake were as alone as they could be, he said, "You're a hard man to find, Mr. Wyatt. Funny man, too."

"Funny how?"

"You know you've got a lot of enemies," Cavanaugh said casually. "Lots of fellas thinkin' if they could just get to you at the right time in the right place, you legacy would be over. They get the fame and they get the big money. I don't even mean rogues, I mean good men. Soldiers, deputies, do-gooders. Funny thing. You ain't ever killed a one of 'em."

"Who says?" Jane asked gruffly.

"Says I," Cavanaugh replied, his eyes boring into hers. "I don't care for tall tales, Mr. Wyatt. I don't like sensationalism in the papers, or going off gossip. I followed every lead. I listened to every first-person account that came from somebody on the right side of the law. An honest man comes after you, he don't get worse than a slap on the wrist."

"Ain't true."

"Oh, that's right, I forgot about that one man in… Salt Lake? Captain John Jones. Tried to get you in the dark, and you shot off two of his fingers. Apparently you skipped town after that, but his wife got a bag filled with money at her home to pay for his procedure. Flowers too, I hear."

"You got a point, old man?"

Cavanaugh clasped his hands behind his back. "Nope. Gotta question, though."

Jane tried to make her response sound as irritable as possible. "_What?_"

He bent his head a little, peering closely at Jane's face. She was starting to sweat, enough so that she almost worried the adhesive on her mustache and goatee would give way any second. Not that it would've mattered much: "You didn't go and really cut your hair, Rizzoli?" Her eyes widened, but before she could even begin to think of a proper response, Cavanaugh straightened up and took her wrist. "One more question," he said, yanking off one of her gloves. He ran his thumb over the back of her hand, brushing the scar there. "You catch the bastard?"

She was trembling. Disbelief was pouring through her veins and making her numb. "Sir?"

_"Frankie and I found the rat that was in your chicken coop, sir!"_

_ "You get him?"_

_ She jumped to attention, saluting him. "Sir, yes sir!" _

Again he pressed on one of the visible scars Hoyt had left behind. "I asked if you caught the bastard."

Jane withdrew her hand from Cavanaugh's loose grasp, lifting it into a salute. "Sir, yes sir."

"How long?"

"Fifteen years."

"Where you at now?"

"Back in the Creek."

"Got a husband?"

"No sir."

"Ever will?"

"No sir."

"At ease, Rizzoli," he muttered, and Jane's stance became a little looser. "It ain't easy chasing criminals across state lines, I'm sure you know. But I find 'em, and I've tied together enough pieces to know Jake Wyatt, for all intents and purposes, was on our side. But you did a fantastic job convincing the rest of the world otherwise, Rizzoli. Hell of a fantastic job. Who helped you, Korsak?"

"Yeah."

"Explains why he's here, I guess."

"Korsak don't usually come along. In fact, he ain't ever been along, really. He's here now 'cause …well, we're settin' it up for Jake to die."

"Why's that now?"

"Korsak's gone and made me a deputy. My parents are avenged." She shrugged. "Figured it was time Jake was gone for good. Let people sleep in peace."

"You've got it all figured out, have you?"

"Yes, sir. Um, Lieutenant… if you don't mind my askin', uh—you don't look very surprised about all this."

"I don't? I'm as surprised as all hell," Cavanaugh said, though his face remained emotionless.

"How'd you know it was me?"

"First off, I know that hat," Cavanaugh said. "It's mine. Two shots through the brim on the left side and one on the back right. I gave it to Jane Rizzoli when I left Hollow Creek. But your eyes, Jane. You got your mother's eyes. Also…" He shrugged. "I found out a lot of guys who were last seen around Jake Wyatt—somehow the credit wound up going to Korsak. I wondered if he wasn't involved in some way, but I didn't give myself the time to think rightly about it. Matter of fact, I came here to warn ya."

"What about?"

"You remember Gabriel Dean?"

Jane snorted. "That drunkard who always hung around town?"

"Cleaned up. Joined a cavalry. Determined to prove himself any way he can, and so far as he sees it, that means tracking down someone like you. He heard you were around these parts, and he's gonna want to catch you. Jake, I mean."

"Jake's gonna be gone in under half an hour. Dead."

"Good. Tell me which way you're goin', and I'll make sure he don't cross your path."

"Sir…"

"You were always tough, Rizzoli. Tougher than your brothers. Tougher than maybe a woman oughtta be. I always kinda figured you'd grow up to be somebody. Looks like you didn't prove me wrong. Your parents would be proud."

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me. Thank Korsak for keepin' an eye out."

"Sir, um…"

"Your secret's safe with me, if that's what you're wondering. You've earned that right so far as I'm concerned."

"Thank you, sir, but that ain't what I was gonna ask. Where you goin' next?"

"I ain't gonna stick around too long," Cavanaugh said. "Thought I'd check out this Wild West show in Mesa, then it's on to Grand Junction."

"Colorado?"

"Yep. Supposed to be some villain from the East out there, trying to set up new camp. Don't suppose you'd be interested in helpin' me out?"

"I appreciate the offer, sir, but I've got a home here now."

"Understood. You'd best get on your way then, Rizzoli. In case anyone's watchin', though, maybe you better slug me."

She could no sooner slap her own father, were he alive.

"No."

He stood straight, the only man who'd ever seemed to tower over Jane, even if he had only a couple of inches on her. "_No? _You just defy a direct order there, citizen?" He gave her a light shove.

Jane pushed back, and Cavanaugh slipped as if she had hurt him much more dramatically. She jumped onto the horse he had walked over with them, and urged it into a gallop, tearing past Frost and Riley in no time. Riley quickly mounted her own steed again and raced after Jane, who was heading past the city limits, out into open country. Riley was calling out to her, but Jane couldn't hear a sound; Cavanaugh showing up like this had thrown her in a very unexpected direction. His memory brought up a past that was, in some details, worse to think about than Jake's.

He'd made her believe it was okay to get up and go when the going got tough. It was respectable, honorable, to leave those who cared behind while you went to fight injustice and fight in the dark, largely alone. A man had to do what a man had to do.

As she'd predicted, Maura's makeshift armor cut painfully into her body as the horse moved along. It'd been a silly thought, really. Understandable on Maura's part, but wholly unnecessary. She heard gunfire behind her, and figured it was Riley's: they'd known ahead of time that firing actual bullets was necessary; people in town would have to be able to hear it to believe Jake had died. Two shots rang close together, too close to have come from the same weapon, the one Riley had concealed on her horse' saddle. Maybe Frost was shooting, also?

Two simultaneous shots, and a third.

Jane twisted around in the saddle, one hand resting on the pistol on her hip. There was Frost, there was Riley, there was a third rider. _What're the odds that's the man who hired Riley? _She pulled her pistol out and prepared to take a warning shot, but a bullet hit her near the chest and she swung perilously forward. The thundering hooves beneath her were all she could focus on as she felt herself start to slide. There was another gunshot and this time a yell, maybe from Frost. She rocked so her feet came out of the stirrups, and she fell from the saddle, rolling in the dirt.

Staring up at the sun, Jane took a deep breath. She was still present. She could still breathe. But she couldn't quite think straight. She could barely register that something was amiss, that their plan had been far from perfect and someone had put a dent in it.

Maura's name was the only word her mind could wrap itself around. And that was how she knew—she _knew_—that no matter if this fight ended Jake Wyatt, it wasn't going to extinguish Jane Rizzoli. Not a snowball's chance in hell.


	40. Winded

**A/N**: Well, we'll see how this goes, I guess. Xena fans, be on the look-out for what I'm sure will be a familiar quote :) Oh, and fans of old westerns, there's a nod to a Jane Fonda classic, too. And by nod I mean blatant titular reference.  
By the way, if you feel lost character-wise about some people who come up in this chapter, rewatch episode 11 of season 2. I'll wait.

* * *

Rule number one about being an outlaw: never, _ever _try to pull a lone ranger.

...

Groaning, Jane forced herself into a sitting position, squinting at the riders coming up. Pushing his horse to the brink, Frost had gotten to Jane first, blocking her from the stranger who had joined their ranks. He was bleeding heavily at the shoulder of his dominant hand, and used his left to fire a shot at the horseman galloping towards them. Riley brought up the rear, aiming at the hooves of the rider's horse in hopes of startling it to a stop. Jane got to her feet, pistol drawn, walking around to the front of Frost's horse.

"Jane!" he barked, trying to cover her again.

"They want me," she said flatly. "Step away, Frost." When he did just the opposite, Jane sighed and said, "Gimme that Colt '61, then."

He took the second gun from its holster and handed it over. Jane jumped when a bullet grazed her side, hitting the spot her hand had been just half a second before. Another shot rang out, this one from Riley, and the mystery rider twisted around to shoot back. Riley had instinctively ducked after firing, which was the only reason why a bullet knocked her hat sideways rather than going right between her eyes.

"I make that five bullets he's already fired," Frost muttered. "Gotta have another weapon."

"Or he didn't figure on his hire switching sides," Jane said. The rider got close enough to dismount, and Jane frowned. "Damn. _Again?_"

"A woman," Frost said dumbly.

And this one wasn't exactly trying to hide it. Her corset was tied extremely tight, her blouse low-cut to the point of being incredibly scandalous. Rather than a split skirt, she was wearing tight, sand-colored corduroys. Altogether she would have been quite a beautiful woman were it not for the ugly grimace on her face. She pointed her gun at Jane, keeping it in place even as Riley jumped off her horse behind her with a weapon of her own.

"You're quite a shot there, little lady," Jane said.

"For a woman?" she snarled.

"For a person," Jane said with a shrug. "Now are you gonna be smart and step down? You're outnumbered."

"Doesn't matter. It'll take one bullet to kill you, Jake Wyatt. I don't care what happens to me after that."

"Hold on a second here," Jane said. "You're Valerie, aren't ya? With the Wild West show?"

"Valerie Delgado," she said through her teeth. "Maybe you remember my uncle. Juan Delgado. You killed him like a coward."

Jane's features darkened. "No."

"_If _that wasn't bad enough," Valerie said, raising her voice, "You got Terrence Jones, too."

"Little T?" Jane asked Frost. "Remember that fella?" She nodded at Valerie. "Friend of yours?"

"Lover," Valerie replied darkly. "Something I don't expect a ruffian like you to know anything about."

"You wanna talk? All right, let's talk."

"I've talked enough, Wyatt. I've spent _years _practicing my marksmanship to make sure I could get a good shot, and here it is."

Jane took a step closer. "Then you oughtta know the make of your own gun, sweet pea," she said. "Don't think you're foolin' nobody. That there's got five chambers, and you've used five bullets. Plus…" She was now standing close enough that the tip of Valerie's gun bumped against her chest. "If you really wanted to kill me, you'd have killed me by now."

Valerie's pistol fell to the ground, but before anyone could do anything else, she snatched the Colt '61 out of Jane's holster and threw an arm around Jane's waist, yanking her back. "Neither of you scoundrels move," she growled at Frost and Riley, holding the pistol up to Jane's neck. She tugged down harshly, bringing Jane's ear to her lips. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe I wanted to make you sweat a little, Mr. Wyatt?"

"I don't rattle easily," Jane replied.

"You try and break free, and you're a dead man."

"I'm gonna be a dead man soon anyway if ya don't take mercy and shoot," Jane said with a grimace. "You got me earlier, on my horse, I admit." She offered a weak chuckle that turned quickly into a stifled groan. "Hurts mighty bad. Might be bleedin' out."

"Let me get a doctor," Riley pleaded.

Valerie just laughed. "Jake isn't going to need a doctor. Just a priest, or perhaps a coroner." She turned a disapproving eye on Riley. "Miss Cooper, I'm disappointed. I thought you wanted tuition money. How better to get it than by helping me destroy one of the West's most fearsome outlaws? Or Jake, perhaps I should ask you," she said, running the tip of the pistol down Jane's neck and up again. "You can charm just about any woman into doing what you want, can't you? Well. Here's one you are not going to charm."

"Too smart for that, I guess?" Jane asked casually.

"Too clever, yes."

"Clever," Jane snorted. "Always gettin' other people to do your dirty work for ya. Let me ask: you have anything to do with the murder of that Judge over in Hollow Creek? Y'know, the one who sentenced Juan Delgado and your _Little T_ to death?"

"Juan was going to break out of jail," Valerie said aggressively. "He'd have made it, if you hadn't snuck in and killed him."

"Let me make it up to you."

"Oh, you're a bit late for that, Mr. Wyatt."

She pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

She pulled it again, to no avail. Jane took advantage of Valerie's surprise by elbowing her in the gut, sending her reeling backwards into Riley's startled arms. Quickly she held Valerie's behind her back, and Frost hurried over with a set of handcuffs. Jane cleared her throat, pulling the pistol out of Valerie's weak grip.

"Took out the retaining pin," she explained. "You've got a jammed weapon here."

It was a tactic she and Frost had used intermittently for years, after one cutthroat had nearly shot Frost with Frost's own gun when his went empty. Carry a dummy, give your partner some time to come up with a plan B. Or maybe make the villain feel you are at his mercy, allowing him the time to spill his guts because he thinks you're about to die anyway. Often it was a risky maneuver, but Jane was glad they had thought to try it one more time.

"Ja—Jake," Riley said in a shaky voice, as Frost cuffed Valerie. "Should I get Dr. Pike?"

"Yeah, bring him," Jane winced. "And when ya go back, you oughtta find a cavalryman by the name of Lieutenant Sean Cavanaugh. Bring him with you, and bring my doctor, too."

"Right, Dr. Pike," Riley clarified.

"No," Jane said slowly. "_My_ doctor, Riley."

It took her a moment, but then Riley nodded her understanding. "All three, got it." She jumped onto her horse and sped back to town.

"Frost, I'd like a word," Jane said. "But first… all right, Val, you got any other weapons hidden on ya?"

"You think I wouldn't have tried pulling one out by now?"

"I dunno, I once knew a woman who kept a knife sheathed between her breasts," Jane said, walking closer. "Although in your case, given your attire, I reckon I'd be able to see if you were tryin' to pull somethin' like that." She untied a rope from her horse's saddle and looped it through Valerie's handcuffs. "Now don't try any funny business," she said lightly. "Walter won't ride unless I'm on top, see? So you just sit tight."

Valerie grunted in anger as Jane and Frost walked out of earshot, no doubt in her mind that they were plotting something devious to do to her. She was upset and a little scared (if she was honest with herself), but mostly mad that she had been weak enough to come out. Everything had been planned: she had gotten someone else to kill that Judge, and she'd hired someone else to draw out Jake. Maybe she should have just gone with another imposter and let him kill Jake; she ought to have known a woman would fall under his spell. If women were his weak spot, well, maybe she could still get out of this. (She wasn't quite as brave about losing her life as she had pretended.) As Jane ripped off part of her coat to use as a makeshift bandage for Frost's shoulder, Valerie tried to come up with a good game plan.

"You going to kill a woman, Mr. Wyatt?" she asked when Jane walked back.

She jumped when Jane spat near her feet. "You must be from Cheyenne, huh? Near Wolf City? Bet you fancy yourself a regular Cat Ballou. Lemme tell ya somethin', Miss Delgado. Your uncle and your lover weren't some innocent farmhands knocked off by people who were s'posed to protect them. They were cold-blooded killers. I could tell ya stories about good old Uncle Juan especially that'd make your hair curl, if you don't know 'em already."

"Stories," Valerie balked. "Why should I believe you?"

"Things I witnessed," Jane said. "Things I ain't ever gonna be able to un-see. He was happy to kill, Valerie. And Little T? You wanna talk about cowards, well, there's one right there. Mowed down any decent fella who dared protest against the way he tried runnin' things."

"You're a white man!" Valerie snarled. "What do you understand about the problems we've faced? What do you know about pain, about prejudice?"

Jane just laughed heartily. "I look prejudiced to you?" she asked, gesturing towards Frost. "C'mere, partner, and let's show Miss Delgado just how p—"

She gasped when Frost walked right up behind her and literally stabbed her in the back. That was, at least, how it appeared to Valerie, whose mouth fell open in shock as she took in the sight of Jake Wyatt crumpling to the ground. Frost held a bloody knife in his hand, a dark grimace etched into his features. When he instructed Valerie to turn around, she obeyed without a second thought, thunderstruck that she had just witnessed the murder of Jake Wyatt. _I wish it had been me, but what a story this will be to tell the rest of the troupe!_

"If you're going to free me, you'd better hurry along and do it," she said after a few silent moments. "Cooper will be back soon with that cavalryman; we should get out of here."

Frost turned her back around so they were facing each other. "And what makes you think I feel the need to run?" he asked, not without merit. "I just killed Jake Wyatt. There's a good name and a bounty of several thousand dollars ridin' on his head."

"But _I _wanted to do it," Valerie said. "I wanted to kill him, kill an outlaw! If you were on my side the whole time, you shouldn't insist I stay in these handcuffs!"

"I ain't on your side, I'm on the side of the law," Frost drawled, wiping what was actually stage blood from the knife onto his pants. "And I didn't break any laws to see this through, like you did. Hollow Creek? Murdered Judge?"

"You can't prove that was me."

"It was you."

"Like I said, you haven't any proof."

"Oh, we'll find something," Frost said casually. "And until we do, we'll hold you."

"On what grounds?"

He shrugged. "Grounds of Mesa, most likely. Wherever them cavalrymen get to."

Valerie gritted her teeth. "On what _charge?_"

Frost reached into an inside vest pocket, pulling out a dull tin star. "Shooting at a deputy with the intent to kill."

Valerie's jaw dropped again. "But you—you were with him! With Jake! How can you—?"

"My brother was Jake's first partner," Frost lied smoothly. "Got him killed, didn't bother to mention it for years. When I volunteered, Jake figured I was in for the family legacy—not revenge. Oh, look there!" he laughed, pointing south. "Posse's comin'."

He untied the rope holding Valerie' cuffs to the saddle, and grabbed her by the arm. Korsak, Gabriel Dean, and a wounded Lieutenant Cavanaugh were sitting on top of the carriage. As soon as it came to a stop, Maura leapt out from the back, nearly stumbling. Her face was white, and Frost nodded at her, trying tacitly to relay the message that Jane was not mortally wounded. But Maura, knowing only that something in the plan had gone awry, could not be comforted by a subtle look, and flew to be by Jane's side.

"This the woman who attacked you?" Dean asked Cavanaugh, nodding at Valerie.

Cavanaugh whistled and rubbed his head, which had been loosely bandaged. "Embarrassed to admit it," he grunted it.

"I had to get Jake Wyatt!" Valerie shouted, pulling uselessly at her handcuffs. "I saw him come this way, and he—" She looked scathingly at Cavanaugh, "—wouldn't let me through!"

"So you attacked a member of the United States military and stole his horse," Dean said. "All to see a handsome face, huh?"

Valerie's response was practically a screech: "_I wanted to kill him!_"

"So did I," Dean muttered.

Cavanaugh clapped his shoulder. "Don't worry, son. You can help me track down that Boston bastard who's hiding out in Colorado these days," he said under his breath.

"A-hem: in addition to attacking our fine lieutenant, here," Frost said, tipping his hat at Cavanaugh. "We have reason to suspect Miss Delgado of hiring someone to take out the honorable Judge Wilkins. Not to mention, she very nearly killed me."

Korsak jumped down from the carriage and took Valerie's arm. "That so?" he asked, looking at her with intense dislike. "You and me are gonna have ourselves a little talk, Miss." He stalked around to the back of the carriage and yanked open the door. "Dr. Pike! You need a personalized invitation? Go confirm Wyatt's death!"

Crammed next to Riley, Pike said, "Dr. Isles seemed fairly eager to take on the job herself."

"You think I'd trust a _female _examiner with a job this important?" Korsak snapped. "Go verify her work, and I'll make sure everybody knows you were the doctor who proclaimed Jake Wyatt dead—your name will go down in history!"

In the meantime, Maura alone had gone to see Jane's body. Without thinking, she rolled Jane over onto her back, so her head was in Maura's lap. "Oh, darling," she murmured. "Jane—are you all right?"

Figuring the coast was clear, at least for the moment, Jane cracked one eye open and grinned despite Maura's evident concern. "Oh, honey," she said in a broken whisper. "Are you a sight for sore…" She moaned quietly, screwing her eyes shut. "Everything."

A tear fell from Maura's eyes, and she wasn't sure if that had been a joke or not. She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and started to dab at a bleeding cut near Jane's eyebrow. "Jane—"

"Get rid of Pike as soon as ya can," Jane said. "Frost'll help you."

She relaxed her body as she heard footsteps approaching, and Frost seemed to be talking to Dr. Pike. "…look, the man is _dead_, all right? You can take my word. Killed him myself, and Miss Delgado saw it."

Pike stopped about two feet from Jane and Maura, frozen in admittedly foolish fear. He couldn't help imagining Jake would suddenly spring to life. Even in the calmness of death, that visage looked vaguely threatening—like it was still capable of calling out one more curse or a war cry. It was startling for Pike to think that less than an hour ago, he had seen this bombastic character, living and breathing. Pike had been shoved by him. He'd made threats. Fired shots, and called them. This, combined with a heady number of downed drinks, was making Pike feel a bit woozy. When he noticed Frost giving him a skeptical look, Pike cleared his throat self-importantly.

"Well," he gasped, tugging at his collar. "It would certainly appear he is dead."

"He's gone," Maura said mournfully.

Pike coughed, not quite meeting Maura's eye. "Did you check for a pulse?"

Maura put two fingers near the curve of Jane's jaw, far away enough from the pressure point that she could honestly say, "I don't feel one." (Jane had to fight a smile at her ingenuity.)

Nodding, Pike turned his bleary eyes to Frost. "All right, boy, how exactly did you kill him?"

"Knife to the back."

"Shouldn't there be—ah—more blood?"

"Not necessarily, sir, no."

"I cleaned up what was there," Maura chimed in, although in total truth she had only wiped away a bit of blood from Jane's face.

Pike tried to smile. "The feminine mind has interesting priorities," he said. "It may have been wise to let me see some of the—"

"What does it matter now that he's dead?" Maura cried. "Jake Wyatt is no longer with us! Anyone can see that!"

Looking taken aback, Pike needlessly straightened his lapels. "Well! Certainly emotional," he muttered, getting down on one knee next to Jane. Maura did not breathe for anxiety as Pike loosely told hold of Jane's wrist, lifted it, and let her arm drop back down. A small dust cloud arose as a result, and Pike got back to his feet with a cough.

"For my official report?" he asked, looking at Frost.

"Say Mr. Cooper Johnson did it," Frost said, using the alias they had chosen for Riley. "Without his help, I'd never have been able to do this. To him should go the credit and the reward."

"Can't say no to that, I suppose," Pike said, looking happy to attribute success to a white man. "Now here's the undertaker's wagon—you get the body, boy, and I'll tell Lieutenant Cavanaugh and Dean my findings."

Once Pike had walked a sufficient distance away, Frost squatted down with his back to him. "Jane, I'll sit up front with the undertaker after I load your body into the coach, all right? I'll ry to arrange it so Maura's the only one back there with you."

Jane's voice came out as a rattling breath: "Thanks, partner."

As it transpired, Jane passed out shortly afterwards. It was all Maura could do to keep herself from slipping into all-out panic mode, unable to fully help or properly diagnose a body that was supposed to be dead. At her request, Korsak joined her in the back of the undertaker's carriage, asking Dean to keep an eye on Delgado in the process.

"What happens now?" Maura asked nervously as they drove back to town. She had gotten into the coach first, and Frost had done his level best to lay Jane across the seat, positioning her head in Maura's lap again.

"We'll leave Pike, Cavanaugh, and Dean here—with their new prisoner, of course. And Riley and Frost oughtta stay back, too, since they need to tell the authorities here what happened. You and I will take Jane back to the Creek."

"But won't the Colt City Sheriff want Jake's body kept here?"

"Frost is a deputy of Hollow Creek, and for all anyone knows, so is 'Cooper Johnson.' That's enough reason to have the right for Jake's body to be brought back to Hollow Creek for burial preparation. If it's want of proof you're worried about, the Sheriff will have the word of Pike that Jake's dead and Delgado's witness that it happened."

"Delgado?" Maura asked dazedly.

"Valerie, the woman," Korsak gruffly responded. "She hired Riley to pose as Jake to lure the real one out, and Frost's hunch is that she hired someone to kill Judge Wilkins, too."

"But why? What's her connection to all of this?"

"Didn't you hear the man go in the Silver Spur about seein' Jake Wyatt kill Juan Delgado in Cheyenne?"

Maura's eyes widened. "Her father?"

"Uncle. Jake caught him and killed him after Judge Wilkins sentenced him to death—she caught him escaping prison. Wilkins sentenced Valerie's lover, too. Called himself Little T, also caught by Jake. Now doc," he said lightly, noting the shift in Maura's expression. "Delgado and Little T were two of the rottenest apples around. Downright savage, and they took pride in it. Don't go feelin' sorry for Valerie. She must've known what type they were, and took after 'em, if she was willing to kill so many innocent people along the way. Frost said Little T nearly got the drop on them at night once, ready to shoot Jane right where she slept. And she wasn't in disguise, either. He just wanted to shoot up some trouble."

With something resembling a whimper, Maura leaned over and pressed her lips to Jane's forehead, holding her securely. Tears were leaking out of her eyes for more reasons than she cared to count. The whole time she'd been talking to Korsak, she had kept a finger at Jane's pulse—at least, as best she could in a rumbling coach. Until she got her hands on some medical supplies, this would have to suffice for treatment.

* * *

Jane woke up to a sharp pain just above her hip, like someone was squeezing her skin there with a pair of tweezers. It only took a moment for the aches elsewhere in her body to register, and she winced as she tried to sit up. Her eyes screwed shut with the pain, and she heard Maura's soothing voice encouraging her to lie back down. She was only too happy to comply, inhaling sharply when she lowered her elbow down too hard. Opening her eyes, she saw it was in a sling again. Well, at least it was the other arm this time, actually. With great effort, she turned her neck a bit so she could look at Maura, who was sitting next to the bed. Their bed. This was their bedroom, two large candles lit on the nightstand, moonlight pouring in.

"Hey, angel face," Jane said, her voice dry as her throat felt.

Maura lifted a canteen and gently put it to Jane's lips, wordlessly prompting her to drink. "Hello, dear."

After she'd had enough water, Jane cleared her throat and focused her gaze. "You been cryin'?" she asked, and Maura nodded, trying to laugh it off. Jane smiled encouragingly. "Hell, I been through worse scrapes than this. Sure I look worse than I feel."

Maura wasn't sure about that: in addition to the bullet graze she'd attended to at Jane's hip and the fractured elbow, there were a series of bruises and cuts that purpled most of Jane' body. An ugly red scratch covered most of her left cheek, courtesy of some pebbles she'd landed on when falling off her horse. Keeping her eyes open was a struggle, she was so tired.

"We took you back to Colt City," Maura said, answering the question she knew Jane was sure to ask. "Word spread quickly about who the undertaker had gone to get, and there was quite a crowd assembled when we got back to town. Lieutenant Cavanaugh was quite a presence, though; he insisted everyone give you a wide berth as Frost transferred you back to Korsak's carriage. It wasn't very hard for people to—for people to believe you were dead."

She had to stop here, and Jane weakly reached for her. Maura took Jane's hand between both her own and kissed it, holding it to her cheek as her tears returned. Seeing Jane unconscious and bloodied up had made it all too easy for Maura to picture her dead as well, and it was not an experience she cared to replicate any time soon. Jane squeezed her hand, and Maura wept a little more loudly, trying to calm herself down enough to speak again.

"I had my medical supplies in K-Korsak's carriage," she choked out, "remember? In case anything happened. So I was able to make some pre-preliminary treatments for you as we returned home. Everyone else is still in Colt City, telling what happened a-and all that."

"Frost and Riley will get the reward," Jane said stoically.

"Was it worth it?" Maura asked, her voice trembling.

Jane took a moment to consider the question before answering. "I think so," she said, never minding that it hurt her ribs if she breathed too deeply. "I ain't gonna have Jake's shadow around me no more, and nobody'll go lookin' for him. We'll be safe from that, now." She grimaced as a sharp pain rose in her chest. "Where's Delgado?"

"Custody, until she owns up about who she hired to kill Judge Wilkins. Jane…"

"What?"

Maura leaned closer, placing her hand over Jane's, which was clutching at her chest. "You were very lucky that bullet didn't hit your heart."

"'Luck' my eye," Jane chuckled. "It was your tin pans that saved me, wasn't it?"

"They most likely helped, yes," Maura admitted. "Although I'm afraid they might also be responsible for some chafing you had. At any rate…" She couldn't help glancing at the nightstand, and when Jane followed her gaze, she did sit up. "Jane, lie down."

But Jane didn't heed, reaching over to the nightstand and picking up what remained of the pocket watch that belonged to Maura's father. She realized she had been wearing it that day, in the vest pocket that lay closest to her heart. "Maura, I'm so sorry," she said weakly, running her thumb over the shattered object.

"Don't be," Maura whispered, and Jane looked over to see she was smiling through her tears. "I think my father would have been honored to help take a bullet for you."

Jane returned the smile as best she could, then dipped her gaze to Maura's lips, jerking her head back by way of asking for a kiss. Maura granted the request as gently as she could, brushing her mouth against Jane's, while placing a hand on her shoulder and pushing tenderly downwards. Jane laughed and acquiesced, resting against the pillow. Her hand was still in Maura's, their fingers now intertwined, and neither spoke for a short time. Jane held Maura's gaze for most of the silence, looking carefully over her for the rest of it.

"Remember that game your mother used to play with ya?" Jane eventually asked. "What crazy thing you'd do if you had thirty seconds to live?"

"Yes," Maura said with a small smile. "Did you decide what your answer would be, Calamity Jane? Half a minute of shooting your pistols into the air, riding a wild steed, and yelling as loud as you liked?"

Maura had expected to get a smile out of this, but Jane's expression remained utterly serious. "No," she said quietly. This time the pain didn't make her wince as she reached upwards, cupping Maura's cheek with a calloused hand. "Even before I knew about that game, even before I ever kissed ya for the first time, I felt it. If my life was in danger and I only had thirty seconds to live, this is how I'd want to live them: looking into your eyes."

At these words, Maura could no longer contain herself. She slid off the chair and onto her knees next to the bed, placing her hands on either side of Jane's face and kissing her. More than once, more than twice, threading her fingers through rough and dirtied hair. She pulled back only when Jane had tried to reciprocate the move, unable to hold back a sound of pain in the process. Maura quickly got to her feet, doffing her outer clothes as quickly as possible. As soon as she was down to her undergarments, she slipped into bed on Jane's other side, cuddling as close to her as she could.

"Always remember, Maura," Jane said steadily. "I love you."

"I know," Maura whispered, kissing Jane's jaw. "I love you, too."

"I really felt it today," Jane went on. "When Delgado shot me off my horse, and I was falling, and I just thought—I thought how I couldn't go out that way. I couldn't spend the last thirty seconds of my life staring down her gun. I had to come back to you, I _had _to. And I was scared I wouldn't, scared in more ways than one."

"How do you mean?" Maura asked.

Jane turned away for a moment to blow out the candles, then rolled back and put her arm snugly over Maura's waist. "I took a hit once when I was about… uh, about twenty-five, I think. When I came out of it, I couldn't remember a thing that'd happened in the last five years. Didn't know Frost, didn't know Jake Wyatt, didn't hardly know a thing. It was just …it was gone. Can't remember how long Frost said it was before I came back, but I did, thank God."

Maura was breathless. "How?"

"Saw someone I thought was Hoyt. Triggered a bunch of memories, and it kinda rolled back to me that way. I was just …today, Maura, I was so scared that would happen. I was afraid I was gonna fall and wake up and not know you." She swallowed hard when Maura kissed her, turning more fully into her, holding her close. "And it made me wanna do something," she continued in a softer voice. "I still ain't so good at writing, you know darn well, but I wanna try to write. I'm gonna spend every spare moment I got writing about you, and how you make me feel, and how you're everything that's good in my life. And I reckon that way, if I ever get to forgettin' you, I can read those and remember. I'll know ya. I won't be afraid." She couldn't help crying herself as she felt Maura nod against her, and she kissed the top of Maura's head. "Reckon I ain't afraid of anything so long as I've got you."

Maura was too overwhelmed to speak, and she tightened her grip on Jane, knowing that would suffice for a reply.

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks for reading, those of you who are still reading! Feedback is always very appreciated, and I think all of you for the helpfulness and kindness displayed so far.


	41. Aftershock

**A/N**: Probably about ten chapters left here, y'all. Or...more. Also, you may want to review chapter 13 before or after reading this update.

* * *

The news that Jake Wyatt had been killed—that he was, in fact, mortal—caused an uproar of epic proportions throughout the West.

Naturally the story first broke in Colt City, but it was telegraphed almost instantly across the territories. Details were few and sources difficult to trace, for after 'Cooper Johnson' collected his reward, nobody ever saw or heard from him again. He merely left a note with the Colt City Sheriff explaining,

"_Wyatt was killed for the greater American good, not to further my own personal fame or gain. I would like to live out the remainder of my life in peaceful obscurity" _(as Riley Cooper certainly did) "_which I am sure will also protect me from the vengeful wrath of the many women who were—and still are—fiercely devoted to Mr. Wyatt._"

This was not an overstatement: Colt City's general post office became inundated with letters from women the country over, demanding photographic evidence that Jake Wyatt was deceased. As this was not an entirely unreasonable request, the city's Sheriff sent a deputy over to Hollow Creek to ask Korsak if a copy could be made of the customary photograph taken before burial. Korsak sent him back with the explanation that the picture had yet to be developed.

Then, as soon as Jane felt comfortable standing, Korsak prepared to stage a photograph using equipment he had recently acquired. He, Jane, and Maura spent an afternoon in the bar at the coral to do it. While Korsak set up the camera, Maura busied herself applying Jane's mustache and goatee for what she sincerely hoped would be the last time. Jane was leaning against a wall of the barn, two planks of wood arranged on either side of her head to resemble the walls of a coffin when the shot was framed. She was dressed in her best, but her face still looked severely beaten up. This would be the only portrait of Jake where he was hatless: Jane's hair was pinned into a tight bun on the back of her head, and photographed straight-on, it appeared only as though the subject had very short hair.

"Hey," Jane murmured when Maura pulled her fingers away from he mustache she'd just applied. Jane took hold of Maura's hand, placing a gentle kiss on the back of her palm. She winked. "Sure this thing's on straight?"

A smile finally cracked the solemnity in Maura's countenance. "You rogue," she whispered. "Are you thinking of the first time we met?"

"Sure am," Jane chuckled. "Been thinking of it a lot, actually. Do you believe in coincidences, or do you believe in destiny?"

"I'm not sure," Maura said, a little thrown by the question. "What's the difference?"

Jane shrugged. "Just been thinkin' about all the ways we might not have ended up in each other's lives. So many things wound up bein' just so, and if they hadn't, I mean—who knows?" Maura's lightly curious expression prompted Jane to elaborate, starting generally: "What if Mr. Fairfield had chosen to stay in Boston, or move someplace high class, like New York or Europe—hell, even Flagstaff? What if he'd chosen any of the hundred other little ponds out here in the west to be a big fish? What if he'd waited till ya were married and had kids before moving out here?"

"I suppose I never thought of all that," Maura admitted.

Jane squeezed her hand. "There's more. For the first time in _five years_, Frost and I were close to the Creek. Our canteens were gettin' low, and after I'd had an all-night watch, I was blasted tired. I saw a coach and I thought hey, maybe we could bum a ride." She shrugged. "What if you'd come in on a different day? What if your carriage had been late and we didn't cross paths?"

"What if you hadn't fallen asleep, and your mustache hadn't been askew?" Maura asked. "Would you have told me you were Jake Wyatt?"

"There ain't no way to tell," Jane said. "And that's what I mean, Maura. If just one of those things had been off by one day, by one minute, one second—"

Maura's grip had moved to Jane's wrist. "Sweetheart, you're trembling." Jane just looked at her, wanting to speak but finding her throat strangely tight. Maura rested her forehead against Jane's, closing her eyes. "Don't go worrying yourself," she whispered. "Everything happened just as it was meant to, and here we are. Here we'll _always_ be."

"Always," Jane repeated, shifting upwards to kiss Maura's forehead. "Except right now."

"What?"

"I don't want you to be here for this," Jane said, nodding at Korsak, who was still fiddling with the camera. "I know it was hard enough for ya to see me posing dead once; ya don't have to see it again. Why don'tcha go stand guard outside the barn, in case anyone tries to come in?"

That was fine for the day, but Maura had to be careful she didn't look too closely at a newspaper for the next several weeks. The picture of the deceased Jake Wyatt was splattered across the territories, causing a fresh wave of hysteria and speculation among his many devotees and detractors. While Jane spent most of the day recuperating at home, Maura could not escape chatter about Jake no matter where she went. Patients and the general populace of Hollow Creek and Green Forge could talk of nothing else but Jake's demise, and many a pilgrimage had already been made to the marker in Colt City that stood where Jake had been killed. (Korsak had insisted, under pretense of fearing grave robbers, that the location of Jake's real coffin never be disclosed.) Nearly everyone, it seemed, had a story to swap about a personal encounter they'd had with the legend or one they had heard second or third hand.

Nobody could be more shocked when the story broke that the last woman Jake Wyatt had kissed was the gentle, reserved Dr. Maura Isles.

During the first few weeks after Jake's death, the same general sorts of stories were circulated in the papers: the circumstances of his death, famous escapades he had undertaken, infamous other rogues he had defeated. There was the typical speculation about his childhood, submitted poems about the irony of his being killed by a "nobody," reprints of his wanted posters in case anybody had forgotten that famously handsome face. And then the daughter of a newspaperman in Utah thought it would be intriguing to do an angle on Jake's renowned popularity with women. Her father instantly sent a reporter to Colt City to ask if anyone knew of any women Jake had been seen with around town just before he died.

The first person he went to: the doctor who'd been on hand to proclaim Jake's death.

"It so happens that shortly before Mr. Wyatt's demise, I was sharing a drink with the young lady who no doubt was to be his last kiss," Pike said, vastly enjoying the longevity of fame these constant interviews were giving him. "I can't say for certain whether they had met before, but ask anyone who was in the Silver Spur that fateful day, and they can attest to the truthfulness of this as well: the last woman to kiss Jake Wyatt was Maura Isles of Hollow Creek, Arizona."

And that was how, after stopping home one afternoon to check on Jane, Maura opened the door to find a porch full of grinning newspaper reporters. There were nine of them, and as each introduced themselves, Maura felt a bout of hyperventilation coming on: some of them were from out of state, and there was only one thing she could think of that would have brought so many to her house: someone must have learned Jake and Jane were the same person, and they wanted the story.

Before she could even begin to think how she might reply, the closest reporter said, "We've been told from a very reliable source that you were the last woman Jake Wyatt ever kissed."

While this wasn't quite as terrifying a notion as the story Maura had initially thought they wanted, she wasn't exactly relaxed about it, either. "S—sorry?"

"No need to be shy, Miss," said another reporter, smiling eagerly. "Dr. Pike gave us the news, and your name was confirmed by the owner of the Silver Spur and at least six others who were in that saloon on the day Jake dropped by."

"What was your business in Colt City?"

"Did you kiss him, or did he kiss you?"

"Are you one of those girls who's kept a record of his exploits, with clippings kept in a journal stowed under your bed?"

"You aren't married, are you? Do you live with your parents, a cousin, a friend? Have you told them of the unique situation you found yourself in, are they jealous? Concerned?"

"Did you have some sense that he was going to be killed that day?"

"Were you there when he died? Did you hold him in your arms when he passed on?"

"Had you met before? Would you have tried to follow him if he'd lived?"

"Have you brought flowers to the marker yet?"

"Did he say anything to you—make a promise to come back for you, say he loved you, would do anything for you?"

"Say, you're a pretty girl! Do you have a photograph we could distribute for the paper?"

When it appeared as though one of the reporters was actually going to attempt to step inside the house, Maura swung the door shut. Still though they were hollering questions at her, hoping to be heard through the door and windows. For a few moments, Maura stood there in shock, trying to decide what to do. Obviously she couldn't lie; not only because it was physically difficult for her, but because there were several witnesses to back up the fact that she had in fact kissed Jake Wyatt. Had that been a foolish thing to do? Would it tarnish her reputation? Should she care?"

"Hey." She whirled around to see Jane standing in the doorway of the bedroom. "What's goin' on out there?"

"Reporters," Maura answered weakly. "Apparently, the word is out that I was the last woman to kiss Jake Wyatt."

Jane raised her eyebrows and leaned against the doorframe, clenching one hand into a fist. "Want me to get rid of 'em for ya?"

Maura briefly considered the attractiveness of the offer, certain that Jane would be able to colorfully frighten off a group of namby-pamby newspapermen with just one look (and possibly a few choice words). But this was a battle she decided she could fight for herself, and lifting her chin, she regally insisted Jane go back to lie down and that she would handle things. Inspired by Riley's way of dodging future interviews, Maura opened the door again. No longer flustered, her deadly serious expression was enough to silence the small throng.

"You may each submit one handwritten question," she said, "and I will write a response that tries best to answer them. I will then have the note sent to Colt City's Morning Post, where you may each request a copy to print. If questioned by friends on other papers, you may tell them to request their own copy. I will be granting no personal interviews."

Such was her conviction that none of the men dared push her on the matter, and all set busily to deciding which question they found most pressing. After comparing notes to see they had covered a sufficient ground, they handed their slips of paper to Maura, who thanked them rather coldly before slamming the door in their faces once more.

By the end of the week, women (and not a few men) were poring anxiously—in some cases enviously—over Maura's account that was printed in every major publication. Each writer provided his own context, romanticizing the scenario and in some ways Maura, but her personal remembrance remained the same word-for-word in each issue:

_"I did not kiss Jake Wyatt in hopes of securing some fame for myself, nor did I kiss him merely in hopes of having a good story to tell my friends and family. While he was an excessively handsome specimen of a man, it was not solely his appearance which drew me to action, either. I have never been an outlaw myself, nor do I entertain any desires of breaking into such a reputation. I am a woman of simple means and basic pleasures, with no husband and no children. My work is in medicine, a profession chosen in hopes of being able to help others as much as possible._

_ "And that is part of what prompted me to kiss Mr. Wyatt. While he was doubtlessly brave, I saw in him a lost soul, one searching only for affection. For once he wanted, I believe, to be one-upped by someone in a non-life-threatening way. That day he seemed particularly defensive, not the casually confident gunslinger I had heard so much about. I thought perhaps a kiss would serve him well, and I do like to think that perhaps it did provide him with some last comfort before his untimely demise._

_ "No doubt this account will shock many people who may wonder what a lady of my standing was possibly thinking, kissing an outlaw. Shameful! Dreadful! Scandalous! But I would disagree. It was a kiss for luck, for farewell, for his legacy—for I did in fact feel a sense of foreboding in that saloon, as if Jake Wyatt would not be with us much longer._

_ "I shan't be indecent enough to go into great detail. All I shall say is that if a kiss is a true indication of anything, Jake Wyatt has certainly earned his reputation not only as one of the West's greatest fighters but as one of its greatest lovers." _

Jane found the last paragraph in particular greatly amusing, and teased Maura endlessly about it. "Only _one _of its greatest lovers, eh?" she challenged after the piece made its first appearance. "Who's holdin' ya back from givin' me first place?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Maura said back, feigning haughtiness.

Without asking first for a chance to fully make her mark, Jane snatched Maura's book out of her hands and tossed it to the floor, kissing her possessively. The doctor's clothes were gone in record time, and similarly, Jane finished her off so fast it was nearly embarrassing. Far from feeling humiliated, though, Maura told Jane she would need to collect far more data before awarding her any definitive title, an endeavor Jane was only too happy to indulge her in.

She took her time, she sped things up, she put on the leather extension (at Maura's initially shy request), and before they knew it, twilight had turned into darkness.

"Stay inside me," Maura whispered, running her hands down Jane's back. Jane smilingly obliged, resting her head against Maura's shoulder, listening and waiting for her heartbeat to resume its regular pattern. "Jane, I think you should know something," she said after a long silence. "Everything I absolutely adore about you can be boiled down to two essentials: firstly, you are without a doubt the greatest lover I ever could have asked for."

Jane's grin widened. "Yeah?"

"Yes. And I don't mean that purely in a physical sense, either—although your performance and stamina never fail to impress. It's more than that. You make me understand love in ways I never thought possible. I can feel your love for me in a word, a glance, the lightest touch. Things don't have to be concrete or literal. I just know. For someone like me, that really is incredible. And the second category that houses my feelings for you—you are a fighter. You champion what seem to be lost causes, rarely with a desire to take credit. You fight because you have so much passion, a fire within you that could not be put out, no matter how much people tried to quell it. So, really…"

"Yeah?"

"Jake Wyatt _is _only 'one of' the greatest lovers and fighters out here in the West. So far as I'm concerned, Jane Rizzoli takes the top spot every time. And she will never, _ever _be bested."

"Well…" Jane propped herself up on her good elbow, leaning over Maura for a long kiss. She sighed in satisfaction, teasing Maura's tongue with her own before pulling back. "That's one woman's opinion. I think you could give me a pretty good run for my money."

The next day, Jane began thinking it might be difficult to return to work full time. Maura pampered her almost beyond belief, and it felt good to be around more. The dogs enjoyed having her nearby as well, and it was good to have the extra time to keep Magnum up on his training. That said, Maura's undivided attention was definitely the biggest perk, and Jane found herself indulging in more luxuries than usual. For instance, warm baths soothed her soreness like nothing else, and Maura was happy to draw one for her quite regularly.

This night, though, Jane decided she did not want to be alone. "Hey," she said, when Maura was preparing to leave the room. Maura turned curiously to face her. "You look mighty tired, Maura. I think a bath would do ya good. We could save us some water if you'd just join me here." When Maura grinned, Jane nodded at her. "Undress for me."

Maura wasted no time, immediately setting to undo the many buttons on her shirt, and they both realized they'd never really done this before. If they were going to get intimate, they would either undress each other or shed their own clothes in a harried state, more focused on getting undressed than on watching the other. On nights when they only required changing for sleep, one of them was typically already asleep while the other changed.

This was different, excitingly so. Jane liked watching and Maura found she enjoyed being watched, at least so long as it was by Jane. As she cavalierly tossed her shirt to the floor, she began to hum a tune one of her mother's friends had sung frequently when Maura had been young. Although she could not recall the words, she made full use of the song's sultry feel, exaggerating her movements as she continued to disrobe. On some level Jane knew this was meant to be amusing, but she couldn't bring herself to so much as smile as more and more of Maura's body was revealed to her.

"Do you have any idea how unbelievably beautiful you are?" she asked seriously.

Maura stepped out of the last of her undergarments and twirled once. Unable to lie, she smiled and said "Yes, I do."

That finally got Jane to chuckle, and she gestured needlessly for Maura to join her in the tub. "C'mon in. The water's fine."

The next few moments unfurled very quickly, and for some time, nobody quite knew what to do. Both Jane and Maura heard their front door bang open, and Tommy came running in, shouting Maura's name. The bedroom door was ajar, enough so that Tommy froze when he glanced in its direction and saw Maura preparing to step into a tub which already held Jane. In an instant he had turned away and Maura had rushed out of sight, but he'd seen all he needed to. His heart started to hammer as he heard a loud splashing sound, which was Jane practically launching herself out of the tub. Ignoring the towel that Maura was weakly holding up, Jane grabbed her robe from the closet and threw it on before stalking into the sitting room.

Tommy turned incredulously to look at her. "What were you two—"

"No," Jane grumbled, finally managing to tie the robe's sash securely around her waist. "You tell me what's so damn important that ya had to come bust your way in here at this hour!"

"Maura was about to get into that tub with you!" Tommy shouted, his face angrier than Jane had ever seen it. "And _I'm _the one who has to explain himself?!"

Jane reached for the newspaper in Tommy's wildly gesturing hand, scanning the headline. There was mention of Jake Wyatt and a kiss, and that told Jane all she needed to know. Sneering, she tossed the paper back at Tommy; he didn't even try to catch it, and it fell to the floor after hitting him in the chest.

"What, Tommy, you come up here to give her grief for kissin' an outlaw? Or are ya jealous of your precious idol?"

Tommy was shaking his head in disgust. "I can't hardly remember what I came up here for," he said darkly. "You explain to me what I just seen!"

Jane's lips pressed tightly together, and she realized quickly how lucky she had been in this regard so far. Korsak, Adelaide, and Constance had all been surprisingly casual in their own ways about accepting the fact that Maura and Jane were more than just good friends. Maura had been the one to take Angela's initially scathing confusion about the issue, leaving Jane only with the responsibility of trying to ease a little of the remaining heartache. Neither of them had yet to fully encounter outright fury and indignation like this. Jane felt cornered by nerves.

"It's nothin', Tommy!" she finally said. "You know Maura and me are friends, we live together, that's—"

"Don't you lie to me!" Tommy said loudly. "Maybe I ain't so educated as Frankie, but I ain't _stupid_, Janie! I know what that was I saw! Friends can live together, they can share a bed, but they _don't _do things like that!"

"How d'you know?"

"Lovers do things like that, Jane!" He turned swiftly as if to leave, but after taking a few steps, veered back. "I know you ain't ever had a feminine bone in your body, and that ya always liked to take off and do things like you were a man—fine, society ain't done well by us anyhow. I thought that was somethin' worth admiring, Jane! I always thought—I wished I could be more like you, taking your life by the horns and doin' whatever _you _wanted 'cause you said that was your right. But _this?_" He waved at the bedroom door, and his expression registered disgust once more. "This ain't _natural!_"

For a moment, Jane considered lying further, bluffing, anything to make this okay. But it dawned on her that if she tried to do right by Tommy, her own flesh and blood, she would be disregarding and dishonoring Maura, her other half.

"What ain't natural about it?" Jane asked, and Tommy's eyebrows shot up. "Ain't it natural for a person to wanna be loved by someone else? Tommy, ain't it natural to _be _with, and cleave to that person once you find her?"

"_Him,_" Tommy said. "For you, it shoulda been about finding _him._"

"Well it wasn't," Jane replied. "I found Maura, and wild horses couldn't drag me away." When Tommy continued to stare at her in disbelief, Jane said, "Don't look at me like that, little brother. You don't have the slightest idea what it is to be in love."

"Yeah I do."

"You don't. You know lust, you know passion, maybe, but not the beauty of bein' in love. That's what Maura and I've got, I don't care how much you think it goes against nature."

"It goes against everything," Tommy muttered, shaking his head. "I always knew you were somethin' else, Jane, and I respected the hell outta you for it." He took another step back. "But I can't respect this."

"That's too bad," Jane said gruffly, her aloof demeanor belying the sorrow that was starting to flood through her. "Some other people know, and they don't give a damn." Nerves made her add: "Don't you go spreadin' this around though, Thomas. It's our business, and we tell who we like. I hear you've been runnin' your mouth, and I'll make sure Ma knows you're gonna be a father soon."

Tommy's mouth fell open. "How—no—"

"I got my ways, kid. Don't try gettin' out of that one."

He turned on his heel and exited the house, slamming the door behind him. As soon as he was gone, Maura (dressed in a robe of her own) flew into the sitting room, catching Jane when it looked as though she were ready to collapse. Her body was shaking with repressed sobs, barely soothed when Maura rubbed her back, kissing her cheek. No words had to be exchanged for Maura to get it entirely: Tommy might have always been the ne'er-do-well in the family, and he might have often gotten on Jane's nerves, but that wasn't relevant. He was family, someone she had known and cared for his whole life. She loved him. And he had spoken to her as if she was less than nothing.

Unfortunately, Tommy was soon to be the least of Jane and Maura's problems.

In Grand Junction, Colorado, Patrick Doyle had been visiting an old lover. Hope Martin had been good enough to take in his young son Collin when Doyle had feared that his enemies in Boston might come after the boy. He was thinking of relocating to the West, not only to intimidate a whole new set of people, but to be closer to his son. Collin was a quiet boy, only slightly more active than Hope's teenage daughter Cailin.

Doyle hadn't spent much time at the house right away, instead going out and scoping the area for potential followers. When he did this, he ignored as much of the outside world as he could, focusing all his attention on careful observation. He came back to Hope's home one night to see her looking over a newspaper in fascination.

"Did you hear about this?" she asked, and he came over to join her at the table. "Jake Wyatt's been killed."

For a moment the name didn't register, and Hope forgot that Jake probably wasn't as infamous in Boston as he was in the West. But then Doyle's brow furrowed, and he pulled the paper closer. "He's dead?"

"Dead."

Doyle stared at the photograph in the paper in quiet surprise. His mind was filled with things he did not feel like confiding in Hope: this man, Jake Wyatt, had told him he was a reformed outlaw. He was married to Doyle's daughter, Maura Isles. He'd become a deputy, but apparently, that hadn't ridded him of some enemy. Doyle didn't have to read the article to know the only thing that mattered: his daughter was now a widow. Heartbroken. Alone. Hurt. He pulled a dagger from his belt and pierced the paper, sticking it in the table.

"Where are you going?" Hope asked in alarm when Doyle stood up and crossed over to the door.

"Arizona," he said flatly. "To make sure somebody pays. I'm gonna take it out of their skulls."

* * *

**A/N**: I know chapter 13 was a while ago, so just as a refresher- Doyle met Jane and Maura while they were in Boston, and Jane was masquerading as Jake Rizzoli. But Doyle recognized her features from one of Jake Wyatt's wanted posters, and prompted who he figured was Maura's husband to admit he was really the famous outlaw. So as far as Doyle knows, Maura is (was) legitimately married to Jake Wyatt.

Anywho, please don't underestimate the appreciation of reviews. Feedback is super helpful and I'm grateful to those of you who've stuck it out this far.


	42. Bonne Anniversaire

**A/N**: Sorry for the long break, y'all! Guess I got a little carried away with those others stories :) Here's a long-ish chapter to make up for it! Where did we leave off? Oh yeah, Doyle was coming to Arizona for revenge on Jake Wyatt, and Tommy has just discovered the nature of Jane and Maura's relationship...

* * *

"Do you think he'll tell anybody?"

"No. I told him: he breathes a word, I'm gonna make sure Ma knows he gone and got a girl pregnant without marrying her."

"Yes, I heard you say that to him, but…won't people find out about that anyway? Why should that stop him?"

"Because he ain't told a soul yet," Jane snorted. "Girl's gotta be due any week now, and he still ain't told anyone. If I reckon right, he ain't _ever _gonna tell anybody."

"What if he confided in Frankie?"

"He ain't done that. I'd know. Frankie can't keep a secret from me any sooner than he can keep a girl interested longer than five minutes." They shared a quiet laugh at that, lying together in bed in the darkness. Once Jane sobered up, she reached for Maura's hand and brought it to her lips. "Don't you worry about a thing, Maura. I ain't gonna let anything happen to ya if word gets out. Besides, we got the Sheriff on our side—and that's the most important thing, ain't it?"

"No," Maura whispered. "The most important thing is that his deputy is on our side."

"You mean Frost?" Jane teased, knowing Maura had been referring to her.

Maura laughed lightly, then stopped to consider it for a moment. "Does Frost know?" she asked.

Jane shrugged, rolling onto her back and staring up at the ceiling. "I ain't ever come out and said anything to him," she said, "but that ain't how me and Frost work, generally. We don't talk, we just watch and we figure. I figure he knows, and he just ain't said nothin' to me about it."

"Should I talk to Tommy?" Maura asked.

"What? No. Why?"

"From what I've observed, you two tend to be the more… well…" Maura sighed, wary of offending Jane, but also knowing she had to finish the thought that she'd already started. "You both tend to have a very strong opinion about your own rightness on certain issues. It's hard to budge. Tommy might be more inclined to listen to me than to you."

But Jane was already shaking her head. "He won't care, Maura. It's done, and there ain't nothin' we can do about it."

"You sound as if you don't even care."

"I don't, not any more. Why should I care if I have the respect of someone _I _have no respect for?" After considering it for a moment, Maura had to admit that was a fairly good point; one worth contemplating, at least. She shifted closer to Jane, lying on her side and throwing an arm over Jane's stomach. Jane lazily started to rub her back. "It hurt when he was sayin' those things," she admitted quietly. "But I ain't gonna waste any time sitting around crying about it. Far as I'm concerned, I wasted too much time staying away from the only thing—the only person—who could make me happy."

"That so?"

"You bet your life it's so, Dr. Isles."

"That reminds me."

"Of what?"

"An article I read about Jake Wyatt. Oh really," she said when Jane huffed in annoyance. "I know you think they're silly to read, but I've been keeping them. It's been a useful tool for me to get to know how you used to spend your time."

"Yeah?" Jane snorted. "That rogue worth knowing, at all?"

"I thought some of his ideas had merit, yes," Maura said. "You and I, Jane, we're very different. You've always been a risk-taker. If I gambled at all, I wouldn't bet unless I was sure I could win. Do you remember what my mother used to say about women?" When Jane, unsure of where this was going, didn't answer, Maura tightened her hold and whispered, "She said, 'all women are gamblers. Otherwise, they'd never get married.' You know I consider us as good as married, Jane. But I still don't consider myself a gambler."

In the moonlight, Maura could see Jane trying to work that one out. Once it registered, she inhaled sharply and turned to lean over Maura, lying on top of her and kissing her deeply. It had been just over a month since Jake's "murder," and Jane was practically fully recovered, something she planned on making great use of tonight. She smiled as one of Maura's hands curved around her neck, the other clasping onto Jane's thrusting hip.

"I'm one lucky bastard," Jane whispered with a kiss to Maura's neck.

Maura's breath hitched. "Technically," she said, "_I'm _the bastard."

Jane pulled back to see a weak smile on Maura's face, and she gently brushed a thumb over her cheek. Maura hadn't meant it to be depressing, but Jane's expression had turned extremely solemn, as if remembering Maura's true lineage was just as hard for her as it was for Maura.

Instead, though, Jane admitted, "Damn it, Maura, we have to make good with Tommy."

"Why the change of heart?"

Idly rubbing her hand over Maura's stomach, Jane said, "I kinda hoped when it came, his bast—uh, his… illegitimate kid would like us. We could be like its aunts, y'know? Tommy's maybe a lost cause, but it ain't the kid's fault he got born like he did. I really wanted him to be part of our family—part of _your _family. But now… what if—what if Tommy won't let us near him? What if he stays in Green Forge with the baby's mother and acts like we don't exist?"

Maura caught Jane's wrist and interlocked their fingers. "What did you say the mother's name was?"

"Lydia. Don't know her family name. All's I know is that she used to work at Stanley's tavern."

Maura didn't say anything else for a few long moments, instead just wrapping her arms around Jane, feeling Jane's heartbeat against her own. In what was often a comforting move for them both, Maura snuck her hands underneath the top Jane had worn to bed, fingers brushing against her bare skin. Jane hummed in satisfaction and Maura let out a quiet moan at just the feeling of the warmth of Jane's skin, a quality she didn't often pause to appreciate.

"Jane…"

"Yes, _cara mia_?" Jane whispered, tapping the outside of Maura's thigh as a tacit request for her to spread her legs. (She obliged.)

"1878. After Jake's showdown with Daniel Cole. A doctor removed a bullet from your abdomen. When you said after your operation that you planned to go find a showgirl or two to romance, or maybe knock over a bank, he admonished you for your carelessness. And you said…?"

Jane grinned and pushed into Maura. "Life's too short," she answered, her voice particularly raspy. "From now on, I do what I want, when I want."

That was a philosophy Maura was able to get on board with herself (although she took it in a somewhat less carnal route than Jane had that night). The next day, wearing a pink pinafore dress which highlighted not only her femininity but her harmlessness, Maura made her way towards Green Forge. This trip was not known about nor sanctioned by Jane, who was traveling to Colt City with Korsak to talk with Delgado. Of her own initiative, Maura was planning to track down the woman who was carrying Tommy Rizzoli's baby. It was a simple matter of going to Stanley's tavern and asking whether he had an address—simple in theory, not in execution.

"Dr. Isles, that girl's a whore, if you'll excuse my language. What's a lady like you doing going around asking for her place of residence?"

"I have heard she's in a—condition," Maura said, refraining the use of the word "delicate" for fear that it would expose Lydia's pregnancy. "A condition which requires medical attention, and fast. I have very little knowledge of her personality, but from what I _do _know, she is more likely to confide in a female doctor than a man."

Stanley rolled his eyes. "From what I could tell, that girl seemed to _confide_ in plenty of men."

"Sir," she said sharply.

He told her the last place he'd known Lydia to live, and once Maura got directions there, she quickly noticed it was a very seedy spot in town. Her dress was the most colorful thing in sight; everywhere she looked there was nothing but drab grays and blues, musty reds and worn-down buildings. Actually it looked quite similar to the place in Hollow Creek where the Rizzoli's lived before Korsak had set about cleaning up that side of town. Maura soon found herself in front of a dilapidated boarding house, a much cruder version of the kind she had stayed in upon first reaching Arizona.

When she walked inside, she realized right away that it was not actually a boarding house.

The interior was garish and lavishly decorated; Maura's eyes nearly watered at the overabundance of brightly burning candles. A man and woman sat on a couch in the front parlor, kissing amorously as other couples talked nearby. Half the men in the room looked over at the door when Maura walked in, and she tried quickly to find the face of someone who might be in charge. A tall, buxom redhead started in her direction, noticing instantly that Maura was not her typical type of customer or applicant.

"You lost, honey?" she asked, not unkindly.

"I'm—not—no, I don't believe so," Maura stammered, not sure where exactly to look. "Maybe."

The woman raised an eyebrow and smiled bemusedly. "What's that, now?"

"I'm looking for a girl named Lydia."

"Oh." Her expression softened somewhat, and she took a step back, evaluating Maura. "Do you know Tommy boy?"

"Tommy Rizzoli?"

"Yes, the rascal. Are you that doctor he was talking about?"

"Most likely…"

The woman stuck her hand out for Maura to shake. "I'm Belle, by the way. Run this little establishment. Sorry a lady like you's got to see it; maybe just try not to look around too much." She turned and started to walk down a narrow hallway, and Maura only followed when she realized Belle was still talking. "Tommy kept saying he'd send for this lady doctor he knew, but Lydia was scared to do it for some odd reason. I knew her as a kid, see. She went to Stanley's to dance her way to legitimacy, and then…" Belle sighed heavily and stopped outside a door at the end of the hallway. "She got in trouble, Miss. But I suppose you know that, already."

Maura cleared her throat awkwardly. "Yes, I'd heard."

"Girl had nowhere to go," Belle said softly. "Father's dead, mother wouldn't dream of seeing her, and she's got no other family. I was the only one she thought would take her in when she was in this condition."

"Why didn't… ma'am, would it be all right if I went in?"

Belle nodded and opened the door for Maura, closing it after she got inside. It was a cramped, undecorated room, no furniture to speak of except for a very lumpy-looking bed. A candle was on the floor next to it, lit, but not providing very good reading light for the unhappy woman lying down. She glanced up the moment her door opened, and shot a confused look towards the exceptionally put-together woman who walked inside. They spent a few moments sizing each other up: Lydia's light blonde hair was scraggly and limp, her skin pale, her eyes very wide.

"W-who're you?" she asked nervously.

"My name is Maura Isles. I'm a doctor. I want to help you."

"Help me what?" Lydia whimpered, pulling her bed sheets up to her chin as if this would hide her rather noticeable state.

Maura walked up to the side of the bed, wishing there was a chair to seat herself on. "May I sit, please?" she asked, indicated a spot on the bed. "This would be easier if we were on the same level, I believe."

"Go ahead and sit, but we ain't on the same level," Lydia said, shrinking away when Maura sat down. "You're a lady. I'm nothin'."

"That's just the kind of talk I want you to stop," Maura said quietly. "Lydia, why didn't you ask Tommy to marry you?"

"I did," she said weakly, wondering how this stranger knew the particulars of her situation—and boy, did she get right down to it. "He said he didn't have enough money to support me and the baby proper."

"He thinks he can do better for you without marrying you?"

"That's just it, Miss Isles. I think he's ashamed of what he done, and he don't know what to do about it. He spends a lot of time with me here, but I don't know what's in his head. He don't hardly talk. And I don't think he hardly wants me anymore. He just looks at me like he can't believe what he's done, y'know?" She sighed and looked at Maura's hands for a ring. "Or maybe you don't. You probably ain't ever done anything improper."

Maura swallowed and glanced at the ceiling while she collected her thoughts. A long crack ran on the ceiling from the door to about halfway through the room, and there were stains all over it, as if many leaks had sprouted and never been properly cleaned. She thought how depressing it must be to live every day in nothing but a room like this, shut away for shame, with hardly any visitors.

"I know the Rizzoli family quite well," she finally said. "And I think what Tommy suffers from is pride in his manliness. He wants to be able to take care of his own…" She caught herself and censored the word "mistakes," although she couldn't help feeling Lydia knew what she had intended. "Issues. Do you think you'd be happy if he'd been made to marry you?"

Lydia shrugged half-heartedly. "It might've made me secure. Unless …I dunno, it could've just made it worse when he leaves eventually."

"What makes you think he'll leave?"

"Before I—got in this condition, he kept talkin' about it. He kept sayin' he was gonna do like his sister Jane and leave, only he was gonna leave and never come back. He thought it'd be exciting. You know I thought he'd just about drink himself to death when Jake Wyatt was killed? You'd think Jesus had come again and been shot back down by the Romans, that's how sad he was."

"Oh, dear…"

Wincing, Lydia sat up a bit more. "So then he got it in his head maybe he'd go try and find that man who killed him—not for revenge, for tips. Figured anyone who got Jake Wyatt had to be good, and maybe worth learning something from. Family life wasn't for Jake Wyatt, and I'm afraid it ain't for Tommy Rizzoli, neither. He's just stickin' around until he figures out where it is he wants to go."

"And what are your plans?" Maura asked gently. "Once the baby is born, what will you do?"

Lydia shrugged again. "I reckon I don't know. I still got about two months left to figure it out."

Maura found herself at a loss for words. In her relatively sheltered existence, she had never encountered someone whose very presence seemed to exude such a state of hopelessness. Lydia looked resigned to her fate, and frankly, as though she did not expect to survive the act of giving birth—or worse, as if she wished not to. On impulse, Maura reached out and took Lydia's hand. When Lydia looked at her inquiringly, Maura cleared her throat and transferred her grip to the blonde's wrist, checking her pulse.

"Have you had any medical attention in the past seven months? Conferred with any midwives?"

"Not hardly, no."

She had expected this. Maura lifted her small bag onto her lap and pulled out an instrument Lydia had never seen before: two flexible tubes were attached to what appeared to be a miniature hearing trumpet, and her first instinct was to shrink away again.

"This is called a stethoscope," Maura said, slowly but not insultingly so. "I promise it won't hurt. All it will do is help me to check your heartbeat."

"It won't hurt?"

"I promise."

The conditions were not ideal, but Maura went through as much of a routine as possible in the dark, dank room. Years of experience told her that Lydia should have been attended to much sooner, and unfortunately only months of experience quietly sat in the background nagging her not to believe Tommy would have bothered to have this covered. Belle did not ask Maura why she later left the bordello in tears, but it was because Maura could not help fearing that she had not and could not ever do enough to ensure the health and safety of Tommy's baby.

It was the baby she felt the most obligation to at this point, not Tommy. Like Jane had said, it couldn't help being born the way it was, couldn't help that it was conceived the way it was. Out of respect for Jane's wishes to stay silent on the matter and for Tommy's decision not to tell anybody, Maura had not interfered until now—and she didn't see how she could stay away. In fact she had promised Lydia she would drop by regularly until the baby was born, and make sure to bring Lydia the most healthy food she could while she was at it. Anything to bring up her pallor and hopefully transfer some health to the baby.

Over the next few days, she wrestled with her decision not to tell Jane she had gone. In the past, keeping secrets from Jane never really seemed to work, but Maura couldn't think of a good time or place to bring it up. Jane seemed to be on pins and needles constantly, as if worrying that Tommy was going to tell their secret to anyone at any moment (which would have been quite a feat, as nobody had seen him in days). This of course worried Jane to no end, and if it hadn't been for a friendly visit from a familiar face at the end of the week, she might've stayed in a bad mood much longer.

"Well, well, if it ain't old Adelaide," she chuckled, opening the door. "What can I do ya for on this fine day?"

"I see you've forgotten our appointment."

Jane stared blankly at her. "What appointment?"

"Jane. Everything is set up. The _arrangement…_?"

"The—oh. Oh!"

Maura's voice preceded her entrance from the study. "Dear, who is it?"

"General Custer."

Adelaide reached over and slapped Jane's head with the ruler she always kept handy. "Leave it to Calamity Jane to forget when she tries to do something sweet. I'll be at my house."

"We'll be along shortly," Jane promised, waving Adelaide off. When Maura walked over with a curious expression, Jane grinned and took the doctor's hands in her own. "Gosh, Maura, I guess with Tommy's flare-up and all the excitement about Jake, I never got a chance to tell ya."

"Tell me what?"

Jane took a deep breath, but Maura wasn't worried because the smile on her face was sincere. "Adelaide came over a few weeks ago. She knows about you and me, Maura. About us." She had one hand on Maura's waist and the other gently at her neck, and drew the woman into a quick kiss. "And she supports it." Misreading Maura's stare, Jane elaborated: "She had a sister—I knew her vaguely, but she was long gone before you ever got out here. Turns out she was involved with that schoolteacher I told ya about, Miss Dolores, the one who hated me so much. They were involved like we were, and Addie turned 'em out and away. Maybe it's 'cause she's gettin' old now, and wants to settle all her sorta unfinished business, but I think she reckons that if she gets behind us, it'd be like gettin' behind her sister. I can't rightly say if she feels it's…"

"Wicked?" Maura offered quietly.

A grimace briefly overtook Jane's countenance. "Yeah. But whatever the case, she ain't gonna chastise us. She's lettin' us be."

"Oh," Maura whimpered, wrapping her arms around Jane's back and holding her close. She kissed Jane's neck and pushed back some tears. "I think I may have told her, Jane."

"Wait—you think you _what?_"

"Some time ago, when my mother was visiting, do you remember? She brought over that whiskey, and I drank so much of it, and Adelaide came by… and I think I told her."

"Oh," Jane said, patting Maura's back before pulling away. "She had good time to think over it, then." She kissed Maura's forehead, taking her hands again. "That old broad loves us, you know."

"I've always sensed it, yes," Maura said with a light laugh, wiping at her eyes. "So what is this about us going over to her house?"

Jane smiled a little wider. "Today's something special, Maura. It marks something."

She watched in light amusement as Maura tried to recall what it was, quickly racking her brain over important dates in their relationship. It had been over a year since they'd met and not quite a year since they had exchanged vows. But then Maura's eyes grew wide with recollection and they were filled with tears again as she reached up for Jane and pulled her down for a kiss. She would never tire of the sensation that was Jane smiling into one of their kisses, her slender fingers coming to rest in Maura's hair or on her cheek.

They both were picturing it now: a veritable rainstorm surrounding them, freed from Maura's fiancé and Jane's avowed enemy, anger and heartache and desperation mixing wildly together before Jane swept in and kissed all away but the resounding, love-fueled passion which coursed through them both.

That first kiss had been a year ago today.

Salty droplets trickled into their kiss, further betraying Maura's tears. She wanted to apologize that in the furor of everything that had happened lately she had neglected to take note of such a vital anniversary, the very day that had begun such an important chapter in her life. When she pulled away to try and say this, it was clear from Jane's expression that an apology was understood and not necessary.

"I think that was the bravest thing I've ever done," Jane whispered, brushing her thumb near Maura's eye to catch some tears. "I've faced what seemed like certain death, sure, but that wasn't nothin' compared to kissing you that first time. I hadn't ever wanted anything more, and I hadn't ever worried so much about how the outcome might change the course of my life. Thank you for givin' me that courage, Maura. Thank you…" She inhaled, a shaky breath that made Maura smile. "Thank you for always bein' so strong when it comes to your heart."

"You know what I thought at first, before you ever kissed me?"

"What about?"

"You. I had empirical evidence backing up my decision to stay close to you."

"What's that mean?"

"It means I had proof of what a relationship with you had to offer, how it could benefit me. When you were around, I felt happier and safer than when you were gone. When I could make you laugh or you would listen to me ramble, I felt better about myself than when I tried the same with anyone else. I was despondent when you were gone."

Jane offered up a crooked smile. "So I've got science backing up our relationship, too."

"Consider it done."

"Well anyway, I wanted to celebrate if I could."

"Good heaven, is Adelaide throwing us a party?"

"Gosh no, Maura. I… I wanted her to do some portraits of us, of our family. I think Magnum might be a little too reckless to let into Addie's house, but if you'd keep an eye on Jo, I'll get Bass' crate and he could sit for a picture with us, too. I want you to find the prettiest dress you've got and put it on, and pick out somethin' you'd like for posterity to see me in."

Maura's grin could not get any wider and she took Jane's face in her hands, kissing her again. "God bless you, Calamity Jane."

* * *

The photograph session was just getting off to a great start when Patrick Doyle rolled into Colt City. He had hopped a train from Colorado and arrived at Mesa, making the short trip from the station to the place where Jake Wyatt had met his demise. Though the city was fairly large, those who lived there knew a stranger when they saw one, and they also knew when a stranger liked to keep to himself. Doyle, tall and intimidating, was given a wide berth as he made his way to the Sheriff's station. Ignoring the dark look on Doyle's face, the Sheriff stood up cheerfully to greet him and asked what he could do for him.

"This the town where Jake Wyatt was killed?" he asked gruffly.

"You bet your boots it is, mister! Would you like to see the marker?"

"No. Where's the man who done it?"

The Sheriff's smile faltered somewhat. "Well, sir, if you've been reading the papers you'll know that he doesn't wish to be found."

Doyle sneered and pulled out a cigar. "Coward."

"What's that, sir?"

"Give me a name, give me anything," Doyle said, lighting the cigar and then waving it with an air of impatience. "What was it, Cooper?"

"Cooper Johnson, sir. Not sure where he lives. But…"

"But what?"

"I-if you're looking for information on Mr. Wyatt, you could try two of the citizens who saw him last—Dr. Pike, who lives just outside our town, and Dr. Maura Isles, resident of Hollow Creek."

"Got a map handy?"

The Sheriff opened the top drawer of his desk and spread it out so Doyle could see it. "Here we are, here's Mesa, there's Hollow Creek. Little town, but right friendly. According to the editor of our local paper here, Dr. Isles lives right on the edge of town, before Green Forge," he said, pointing to the road on the map.

Without another word, Doyle turned on his heel and exited the building.

He had been blessed with the ability to hide himself when needs be, even in broad daylight. Alone he made good time getting to Hollow Creek, and he got through town on back roads and side alleys, slipping by mostly unseen. As he'd hoped, Maura's home was far on the outskirts of town, which meant nobody was likely to see him go inside. He knew it wasn't very proper to just drop in on her like this, but matters such as these couldn't wait for propriety's sake. No doubt she was heartbroken, crying alone at home, mourning for a husband taken away prematurely. Doyle left his horse at the nearby corral and walked the rest of the way up to Maura's house, surprised at its size.

For a moment on the porch he hesitated, then he yanked the door open and glared inside. His eyes swept the area, and nobody was in the kitchen or sitting room. He stalked inside, loudly enough that someone would have heard him had they been home, and nobody came. Still, he checked the bedroom and the study to be sure. Finding another door, he opened it and tromped down the staircase behind it to the cellar, also empty. Well, empty of people anyway: there was a desk and what appeared to be the beginning of a small boat, still being built.

Papers were strewn across the desk, and with no heed for proper manners, Doyle lit a nearby candle and started to read. It looked almost like a letter, and he rifled through the papers for the first one, which was dated and signed "Jane Rizzoli."

_In case you find yourself not quite yourself: if you forget it all, read this not to forget her._

_ Her name is Maura Dorothea Isles, and she loves you. Her smile is not holding out it is not a leer. That starlike sparkle in her eyes is not a trick of the light. Since you first met she has known who you are, she has known your biggest secrit. She knows all of your secrits. You told them to her, not all at once, but slow while you got to know her. _

_ She can comfurt you like nobody else can or does or wants to. She is looking out for you always and she feels so much love for you, and she shows you. She is not embarased to show how she loves you. She tot you had to read and even tho your speling is stil not too great she has helped you be better at it then you ever were. She has always taken the time to show you things and learn things from you and just be with you. _

_ Do you know what all she gave up for you? She wanted you more then a husband, more then a good name or society's aproval. She wants you more then being able to give birth but she stil wants a family with you._

_ And you will do __any__thing to give her that. That is the most important thing for you to remember, not only how much she loves you but how much you love her. She keeps you strong and keeps you onest. You have neerly died for her and would die a hundred times if you had to. She has saved you from drowning but you would drown for her, you have drowned in an ocean's depth of feeling for her. You trust her with everything you own and know and are. _

_Do not ever, EVER __chase her away. Do not make her unwelcome or scared or upset. Stay by her and you will not ever be lost again. Love her and let her love you and you will not ever be sorry. _

There was more, but Doyle had seen enough. He checked back to the first page and puzzled over it, over a woman's name. This seemed to go farther than strong companionship, he wasn't sure. It would be rash to jump to conclusions. Letting the papers fall back on the desk, he blew out the candle and returned upstairs, this time making his way to the study.

This was clearly Maura's space, he could tell by the neatness with which it was kept. Nothing cluttered her desk but a nib pen and a stand with a single photograph in it. Curiously, he picked it up, saw "_subject: Jane Rizzoli, 19_" scribbled on the back. There was that inherently unfamiliar name again, but with a face that was oddly quite familiar. He stared long and hard at the photograph, trying to remember where he had seen that face before, and then it him.

That girl was Jake Wyatt.

He crossed from the study over to the bedroom, though he had no idea what he was hoping to find there. Further incriminating evidence? Of what kind? Not sure what he was looking for, Doyle opened the closets and went through every drawer. There were all manners of frills and dresses, but also many masculine clothes, and boots and hats. And there, in the bottom drawer of one of the nightstands, he found it.

A long, thick piece of black leather attached to worn brown straps, looking very much as if it might be used to simulate a piece of anatomy Jane Rizzoli could not possess.

Just as Doyle kicked the drawer shut in vehement disgust, he heard a door open. He whirled around, pistol drawn, only to realize those were not human footsteps he heard. An animal's claws were scratching along the wooden floor, and when Doyle walked out of the bedroom, he saw a black dog staring at him. Magnum had come in through a small flap of a door Jane had constructed specially from the back porch, and seeing Doyle, he snapped instantly into a protective stance, snarling as imposingly as he could. Though not quite fully grown, he might have been quite intimidating to a lesser man. Magnum barked, and Doyle did jump a bit at that—it was louder than he'd anticipated. When Doyle made no move to leave, Magnum barked again, twice and then three times, walking Doyle towards the front door. The barking became incessant, and Doyle was almost ready to shoot him when he heard footsteps fast approaching from outside.

Maura opened the front door and beckoned for Magnum, trying to quiet him before she turned and saw Doyle standing there.

"You tell that thing to get out before I shoot it through the head," Doyle said, raising his voice to be heard over Magnum's barks.

Paling almost instantly, Maura gestured for Magnum to go out the front door. He was initially resistant, moving only when Maura walked over and tugged at the fur on his neck. Staring resentfully at Doyle, Magnum growlingly stepped outside. He was soon replaced by Jane, who was looking at him curiously before Maura grabbed her hand, and she saw Doyle.

"Oh," was all she could manage.

It might have been comical if Doyle hadn't then held up his pistol, aiming it for Jane's head. "Jane Rizzoli?"

Jane lifted one hand in surrender, and would have raised the other also if Maura wasn't clutching it so tightly. "Yes, sir."

"You give me one reason why I shouldn't shoot your brains out for corrupting my daughter."

* * *

**a/n**: So that was a bit melodramatic, yeah? It's how I roll.  
That business with Doyle might have seemed like a bit much, but he had to believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that something was going on. That letter/journal entry Jane wrote is really not that different in tone from 19th-century letters exchanged between women who were friends (or at least believed to be only such at the time). They were just flowery in their wording and their sentiments back then, no questions asked. So I thought theoretically, that might only get a ball rolling, if at all.


	43. Fathers or Futures

**A/N**: Thanks for your patience and continued reading, folks! For those who celebrate, I hope you all had a great Passover or Easter holiday :) For those who don't, I hope you had a great week and weekend!

* * *

Sitting for portraits with Adelaide had been an uncommonly happy experience for Jane. She and Maura had shown up with pets in hand, much to the old lady's amusement, and she'd hurried them inside. Not a word was exchanged about Adelaide knowing the full circumstances of Jane and Maura's relationship, which they found surprisingly refreshing. She merely welcomed them in and gestured to the spot she had arranged for them to be photographed in, using a set-up identical to any she would have done for a married couple.

Really, she thought, it was a shame that cameras couldn't capture color: Maura's sky-blue jacket, worn over a white taffeta gown was bright and beautiful; its radiance was outstripped only by the warmth in her eyes as she surveyed her handsome partner. Jane was not dressed quite as formally, but cut an impressive figure all the same. Her boots, vest and trousers were all black, the only hint of color coming from the light blue shirt beneath the vest. That, however, was mostly hidden thanks to the long black jacket she was wearing, a last bid for formality which clashed a bit (in Jane's typical style) with the hat cocked on her head.

"How's your lap, Jane?" Adelaide asked. When her only response was a blank stare, she added, "Strong?"

"I suppose, yeah. Strong enough."

"Good. Set yourself on this chair, here." Jane complied, her legs automatically set in a wide stance, which Adelaide quickly corrected with a slap of a ruler. "I told you to form a _lap_, Jane. So Maura will have somewhere to sit."

Maura was positioned next, sitting delicately on Jane's lap with her arms encircled around her partner's neck. Jane couldn't fight a smile, and she didn't need Adelaide's direction for where her own grip should go: one hand reached over Maura's legs while the other rested at the small of her back, keeping her securely in place. Initially they had turned to face the camera, as that was what one did in a portrait, but Adelaide waved her hand and said they should just look at each other instead.

"It will look more natural," was how she had put it.

A lump rose in Jane's throat at the thought that somebody saw them positioned in this fairly romantic way and deemed it natural.

The session—which eventually included Jo and Bass—ran long by necessitation, but nobody minded. With such good company and so much good will going around, how could anyone complain? They stopped only when lighting became an issue, and giving Adelaide their hearty thanks, the women struck back out for home.

Once they'd reached the house, Jo had jumped from the carriage at the sound of Magnum barking. He still had yet to be a properly trained guard dog, noted by Jane the several times she had caught him growling at such innocuous things as butterflies or Angela. It did not occur to her to be precautious, and she let Maura go into the house first to quiet the dog (who seemed to respect Maura's authority more than Jane) while she brought Bass up.

But there was something unusually angry about Magnum's disposition when he came slinking unwillingly outside, and Jane quickly put Bass' crate on the porch. She stepped quickly inside to see none other than Patrick Doyle, Maura's birth father and one of the most feared men on the east coast, armed and angry. He swiftly pointed his pistol at her.

"Jane Rizzoli?" His voice was black. An affirmative response caused his expression to tighten, loathing and fury equally present in every line of his face. "You give me one reason why I shouldn't shoot your brains out for corrupting my daughter."

Jane had only been this scared once in her life: when she and Maura had been kidnapped by Hoyt. She wasn't scared for herself, she was scared for her love. Maura _could not _see her be killed.

"I could give you several reasons," Jane said slowly, surely. "Pull up a chair and stay a day or two, I might be able to get through most of 'em."

Doyle was not amused, and couldn't even summon up a grimace. "Think you're cute, huh? Well I'm not laughing, you goddamn mistake. Look, here. You wanna play dress up and go around the wild west, making everyone think you're worth something, that you're somebody? Fine, go ahead. But you made a fool of me in Boston. You made me think you were someone respectable, someone who'd married my daughter."

"She _is _someone respectable," Maura said, trying to step in front of Jane, but Jane wouldn't let her. "And for all intents and purposes, she _has _married your daughter."

Doyle's response to this was to step forward and grab Jane by the collar of her shirt, yanking her out of Maura's grip. Jane was rendered silent in shock but Maura cried out when Doyle slammed Jane against the wall and stuck his pistol right at her neck.

Turning to address Maura, he said, "You think I gave you up, let some other man raise you, so you could grow up to be like _this? _I wanted you to be a _lady_, Maura, somebody society would respect and want to be like. I wanted to spare you the grime and the dirt of my lifestyle, and the people I've had to meet. But _this_," he said, pulling Jane back only to knock her harder against the wall, "is the lowest level of filth, you know that? H—she—whatever the hell it is—brought you down."

"I don't give a damn what you wanted for me!" Maura shouted. She felt like she was about to be violently sick; her hands flew up to her mouth to suppress a sob, and for the briefest moment, she thought she saw pity flicker across Doyle's face. She took a chance and stepped incrementally closer to him and Jane. "You don't know anything about me!"

"I know enough," he replied gruffly. Though his hand kept Jane's arm in a vice grip and the barrel of his pistol was fitted directly against her, his eye stayed on his daughter. Jane knew better than to try and make a break for it, knowing he wasn't as distracted as he might seem. "I was there, Maura, your whole life."

Maura was shaking, and she braved moving even closer. "You think a room full of paintings is going to tell you everything?!"

"It told me what I couldn't see when you were abroad," he answered. "I kept an eye on you in Boston. Always did. It worried me when you moved out West at first, 'cause I didn't wanna up and move out here with you. But I knew Fairfield was here, and I knew he was a gentleman. He'd see to it that you were in decent society. Now I had to come pick up the slack where he left off."

"What are you even _doing _here?" Maura hissed, wiping at her tears only because they had begun to blur her vision.

"Came out to see my boy, Colin. Then I heard about Jake Wyatt. I was gonna kill the man who got him, who'd made you a widow. Didn't think I'd find _this_." He tightened his grip on Jane and redirected his gaze to her. His face was pinched a bit in disgust, not only for how Jane had fooled him in Boston, but for her cowardice now. She was pale, trembling, weak. His lip curled.

"You told me you don't kill women!" Maura reminded him.

Doyle laughed. "And I don't! Not proper ones. This ain't a woman, Maura!" Now addressing Jane, he snarled, "Way I see it, I'm doin' you a favor. Maybe if I kill ya, God'll see the mistake he made and let you come back as a boy. I ain't been to church in a while, so my theology might not be so good—but why we don't take a chance?"

"_Stop!_"

Maura's voice was so powerful, so unexpectedly angry and up-close, that Doyle turned to look at her again. Only now, she was right up next to him, and took advantage of the instant she had taken him off guard. She stepped between him and Jane, reaching blindly behind her for the pistol Jane had holstered on her hip, and Doyle took a surprised step back when Maura hoisted the weapon up and pointed it at him.

"Put that down, Maura," he said, not lowering his own pistol. "You'll hurt yourself."

"No worse than you'd hurt me if you kill Jane," she said, struggling to keep the heavy firearm aloft while she was trembling so badly. "What are you hoping to accomplish by shooting her, you Neanderthal? How is that going to help me? This woman, this person, is the love and the light of my life, and killing her _will not change that_. She has fought for me, she has _killed _for me, and I wouldn't be able to call myself her equal if I wasn't willing to do the same."

"You'll thank me," Doyle said. "You may not think so now, but this is for your own good, Maura. Your soul's own good."

"I'm not a child!" Maura shouted. The dogs had started barking outside, but they went quiet shortly afterwards, and no attention was paid. "I am not the five-year-old son you abandoned, I am not a lost little girl wondering where her father is and if he'll help her! I know where my father is, and furthermore, I know how my _mother _feels about this, and I do not need your approval. Jane has not 'corrupted' me. She's freed me."

Doyle was staring at her like she'd grown a second head; while his expression was confused, his pistol didn't waver. All of their attention was diverted when a knock sounded at the door. Given the silence that had fallen between them, a boulder might have been banging to get in. Doyle looked accusingly at Maura and Jane, who were equally dumbfounded.

The knock came again, and this time, Adelaide's voice followed it: "Jane? Maura? I know one of you is in there, at least; the dogs are in the yard. I came by because Maura left her bonnet behind in my home, and I've been kind enough to walk all the way up here to return it."

Jane touched Maura's waist gently, and Maura tried not to look surprised. Both of them knew Maura hadn't worn a bonnet to Adelaide's, and they also knew Adelaide was familiar enough with their apparel (supplying it all herself) not to mistake someone else's for Maura's. So what…?

This time Doyle had taken advantage of their distraction, and he easily wrested Jane's pistol out of Maura's hand. In the split second she had to think about it, Jane was sure he'd grab her again, but he reached for Maura instead, wrapping an arm securely around her stomach and pulling her back tightly to him. He intended one of them to answer the knock, lest anything seem out of the ordinary, and he did not trust the inherent female in his daughter to be able to keep her mouth shut.

"Who's at the door?" he muttered.

"A friend," Jane said weakly, not wanting to take a chance on betting that Doyle wouldn't seriously harm his own daughter. Her lips were dry; she wetted them before speaking up again: "We were just at her place."

"Open the door, take the bonnet, tell her to leave. You say a wrong word and I break Maura's arm, or worse."

"You wouldn't," Jane said through her teeth, resolve crumbling.

"With no respect, Rizzoli, you don't know _what _I'd do," Doyle said flatly. With that, he holstered one pistol and clamped his hand over Maura's mouth. He stepped into the kitchen, where he'd be out of sight, but still able to hear whatever Jane said to the woman at the door.

Jane felt like was hardly able to breathe, and she brushed at her eyes before going to open the door. Her hand rested on the knob for several long moments as she tried to collect herself. Adelaide knocked once more, and Jane took a deep breath, opening the door.

"About time!" Adelaide managed to say. It was difficult to get any words out when she saw the proud and fearless Calamity Jane looking red-eyed and frightened. She limply held out a very ostentatious bonnet, one she knew full well did not belong to Maura. "This is the doctor's, I believe," she said heavily.

Still thrown by this, Jane figured it wouldn't be best to argue and took the bonnet. "Sure, thanks, Addie. I'd invite you in, but we've—we're kinda tired."

"Mm, I understand. I passed Frost on my way here, incidentally. He asked me to tell you something."

Jane's eyes darted to the kitchen. "Oh?"

"Yes. Yes, what was it now? He said he wanted to know whether Angela's coop still needed the ah, reinforcements you had talked about. For the chickens."

Jane was still so tense that at first she had no idea what on earth to make of this. Adelaide saw that she was utterly baffled, and she raised her eyebrows meaningfully until it clicked. This was code. Her heart leapt at the realization that Frost had to be just outside, waiting on the porch.

Back in their runaround days, if Jane went off with a suspect or two, Frost might follow up later and assess the danger of the situation by pretending to be someone looking for work. Jake Wyatt would open the door, and Frost (or a messenger he sent) would ask if there was any sort of handyman work he could do, oh like say, fix up a chicken coop or a hen house. If Jake's answer was that the chicks were fine, Frost knew all was well. If the response was positive, Frost would know back-up was needed. Hostage situations were rare, but it always a good idea to have codes for everything.

Jane swallowed and looked pleadingly at Adelaide. "Tell him Angela's chicks ain't gonna last much longer in the crate they got. Anyone, anything, could just get in through the back. Sooner we fix it up, the better."

"I'll be sure and pass that message along," Adelaide said, mustering the best cheerful tone she could. "Good night, my dear."

"Good night, Adelaide."

Once the door had shut, Adelaide nearly collapsed on the porch. Korsak was there to hold her up, and he turned to hush the dogs when it looked like they might start barking again.

About ten minutes ago, Lieutenant Cavanaugh and Gabriel Dean had come riding into town. Cavanaugh had slid off his horse and into Korsak's office with a poster that had Patrick Doyle's name and face on it. He said he'd just tracked the rogue to Colt City, where the Sheriff there had told Cavanaugh that Doyle seemed hell-bent on killing the man responsible for Jake Wyatt's death, and that the dangerous criminal was en route to Maura's house.

Adelaide had happened to be at the station, innocently picking up a kitten from the latest litter of Korsak's cat. She couldn't follow much of Cavanaugh and Korsak's conversation, but gathered that Maura was in trouble. She wanted to help.

"Absolutely not," Korsak had cut her off.

"No, she _can_," Frost had cut in. He explained his belief that if Doyle was in fact at Jane and Maura's house, he was the type who would never lay a hand on an old woman. But if a strapping man came to the door and possibly Maura's aid, Doyle might be more suspicious and more trigger-happy. Cavanaugh had agreed.

The lot of them were now positioned on the porch, and Korsak got close enough to his deputy to whisper, "What now, Frost?"

"She mentioned the back of the coop," he answered. "We go around to the back of the house, we can see through the window Jane put in."

"Ma'am, you've been a great help," Cavanaugh whispered to Adelaide. "You'd best get on home, now."

For once, Adelaide did not argue, and she took Korsak's carriage down the road to her house. Frost led the way around to the back of Jane and Maura's place, with Korsak, Cavanaugh, and Frankie following. (Frankie had been patrolling the cells when the cavalrymen rode in, and Korsak didn't think it would've been honorable to keep their mission from him. Begrudgingly, Dean had followed the order to stay behind in Frankie's place.) Once they reached the window, Frost braved glancing inside, and he told the others what he saw:

"That's Doyle, all right. He's got Dr. Isles, and Jane's hands are up. Doesn't look good."

"You've studied Doyle," Korsak said to Cavanaugh. "You tell us. He likely to kill an innocent woman?"

"No," Cavanaugh said.

"So Maura's is all right," Frankie guessed. "But Jane ain't a regular woman."

"True," his superior agreed. "She could be in serious danger."

"I don't understand," Frankie muttered. "What do either of them have to do with Jake Wyatt? Why's Doyle here if he wanted vengeance on that monster?"

"Doc's the last person who saw Jake alive, you know that," Cavanaugh said, not letting on to Frankie (let alone Korsak or Frost) that he knew Jane and Jake were the same person. "Besides, he could be wounded. Maybe he wanted medical attention. Frost, does that door open out or in?"

"In. Does Doyle startle easily?"

"Yeah, but he won't shoot if we get enough of a drop on him. Wait for a clear shot."

Inside, Jane had practically forgotten her conversation with Adelaide. Unarmed and feeling useless, she quickly saw that bargaining with Doyle wasn't going to be an option. It wasn't her nature her to beg, but with Maura's future on the line, her pride had no place to exist.

"If you're gonna kill me," she said shakily. "Please, Doyle. Just do it fast, but you better tell me you've got a damn good plan for what you're gonna do with Maura."

"I'm taking her with me. The woman who's been looking out for my son in Colorado is sick. Mighty sick. Stumped every doctor in the territory, but I know my daughter's brilliant. She'll do it. She'll cure her. It'll give her something to live for after you're gone. Something to achieve."

"Let me go!" Maura cried, trying her hardest to wrench out of Doyle's grip, but he was too strong for her. "Let me go, or I swear I'll kill you myself!"

Doyle let his dominant hand drop, almost amused at how hard Maura was battling to escape. "Sweetheart, that's something I'd really like to see you try."

A moment later, one of the panels of the back window was shattered, and three heads turned to look. A gun went off, and a bullet grazed Doyle's wrist. Instantly he turned to face the window, shooting blindly back, letting go of Maura in the process. Jane reached for her the instant she was free, and the back door swung open, admitting a posse Doyle was not quite ready to face. Frost, Korsak, Cavanaugh and Frankie rushed inside, guns drawn, and Doyle couldn't tell who to aim for.

"Drop your weapon, Doyle," Cavanaugh said. "You're outnumbered. No chance of getting out here alive if you try and fight."

"You go to hell. I'm trying to protect my daughter."

Korsak's eyes widened, and the other men in the room looked no less surprised. "Your _daughter_?" the Sheriff asked, shocked that neither Jane nor Maura was refuting this.

Doyle centered his aim on Cavanaugh. "I allowed another man to raise my child so she'd be brought up all right. If any of you mugs are fathers, you'd understand. You want the best for your girls. I stepped in here to keep my girl safe."

"From what?" Frankie snarled, unflinchingly pointing his own revolver at Doyle's head. Jane's heart jumped a bit; she was sure Frankie had never actually killed a man. "My sister would never harm a hair on Maura's head."

"You have any idea what your _sister_ is?" Doyle asked quietly, narrowing his eyes at Frankie.

Cavanaugh stepped forward. "I told you once already, Doyle, and I ain't gonna say it again. Drop. Your weapon."

If looks could kill, everyone in the room was sure that Cavanaugh would have died on the spot just then. But Doyle finally said, "This one belongs to Rizzoli, as a matter of fact." He turned as if to give the weapon back to her, but instead only aimed it at her forehead.

"You wanna die, Doyle?" Cavanaugh asked harshly. "I have no problem with that."

"You won't get me before I get her," Doyle said.

"Wait!" Jane yelled, speaking more to Cavanaugh than to Doyle. "Wait. Please. Doyle, you don't care if you live or die so long as I'm dead?"

"You cotton on real quick there, Rizzoli."

"Then do it honorably," she said, and the word struck Doyle, the way she knew it would. "This is a coward's way out, Doyle. You and me, ten paces, pistols drawn."

There was a loaded silence, and then Doyle finally lowered the weapon in his hand. He gently turned it over to Jane, who grabbed it like it was the first piece of food she'd seen in days. Korsak gruffly suggested a spot, and Doyle allowed himself to be taken outside by Cavanaugh. Jane nodded at her brother, and after looking at her uncertainly, he followed Frost outside. Now alone with Maura, Jane had hoped for some comforting words or an embrace—certainly not the look on Maura's face that was furious and hurt.

"Damn, it Jane! What are you trying to prove?!"

"What? Maura—"

"The lieutenant was about to take him! This could have all been over! And instead you—you've got this pride you won't let fall, and you're going to go out there and let Doyle have another shot at killing you, just to prove you're not afraid of him or something! God—for God's sake, _what are you trying to prove?_"

Waiting to be sure Maura had exhausted herself, Jane walked calmly towards her, taking Maura's hands in her own. When Maura pulled them away, Jane hugged her. It was loose enough of an embrace that Maura easily could have broken free if she wanted to, and it was only when she realized this that she hugged Jane back, tightly.

Jane took a deep breath and kissed Maura's forehead. "This ain't about pride, Maura. It's about you and me. Doyle ain't gettin' out of this alive, unless you want him to."

"What?" Maura whispered.

"I ain't ever lost a duel. I don't aim to, now. I can shoot him some place that won't kill him, but then he'll just come back."

"If it's you or him, Jane… do what you have to."

"Don't worry," Jane said softly. She pulled back enough to kiss Maura, one that was long and steady and inexplicably soothing. "I'll come back to you."

"Come back? You've lost your mind if you think I'm letting you go out there alone."

Jane managed a smile that Maura couldn't quite return. "Of course, Dr. Isles." They walked arm in arm towards the back door everyone had left through, and Jane came to a halt before opening it. "Maura, no matter what happens, don't ever fret. You are worth _everything_ that has ever happened to me."

She didn't give Maura the chance to respond. Jane swung the door open and headed outside, walking down the path that would lead to the area where all the men were congregated. It was behind the barn at the corral, very open and very empty of anyone who might have been looking on. When the women reached the spot, Frankie looked a little surprised that Maura had come along, but he said nothing. Instead, he offered Maura his arm, and after leaving a long kiss on Jane's cheek, she gratefully took it and followed him to the barn. They stood outside it next to Frost, who acknowledged them only with a silent nod. Cavanaugh had just finished looking over Doyle's weapon, then took Jane's and gave it a similar appraisal.

"Ten paces, one shot," he said. "Okay?"

Doyle nodded and Jane squared her shoulders. "Okay."

"Jane."

"Sir?"

"You trust this son of a bitch not to turn and fire at your back?"

Jane looked at Doyle, whose face was impressively passive. "Lieutenant, I trust you or the Sheriff or my partner or my brother to get Doyle before he gets me if he tries to pull anything like that."

Cavanaugh's glare shot daggers at Doyle. "Understood, you bastard?"

"Understood, lieutenant."

They both took their weapons from Cavanaugh and started to walk as he counted off paces. Jane felt oddly calm and in control. So long as she didn't look at Maura, she could treat this like any other showdown. Her record was perfect. Sure, Doyle's probably was too, but that didn't scare her away. She had a drive and something to stand up for that was far more powerful than the wounded pride Doyle felt. With each of her ten steps, she thought of the lives he'd cavalierly ruined in the east. She even thought of Constance, of how Doyle had broken her heart. How he had allowed Desmond Isles to save his life while the poor man was ignorant of his true identity as Maura's birth father. How he had never been interested in intervening in Maura's life until now, to the point where he'd kill the person his daughter loved rather than hear her out.

At ten, she turned around.

This was her land. The last glint of a brilliant sunset was not something Doyle's vision was yet accustomed to. The pebbles and small mounds of dirt beneath his feet as he turned shifted his position ever so slightly. He didn't have time to blink before a bullet lodged itself firmly in his body.

After the deed was done, Maura pulled herself out of Frankie's grip, and he half-expected her to run towards her fallen father. But she ran instead for Jane, who had just holstered her weapon and looked none to proud. Maura flung herself into Jane's arms, now weeping openly. For a moment, Jane worried she was about to be berated in spite of the go-ahead Maura had given her, but it seemed all Maura wanted to do was embrace her, and tightly at that.

Over Maura's shoulder, Jane could see that Cavanaugh and Frankie were looking over Doyle's body. Frost was still at the barn, and Korsak was looking at Jane, hanging back. He wouldn't approach them until Jane invited him to.

It took a short while for Maura to collect herself enough to speak intelligibly. "You didn't give me a chance," she said through deep, short breaths. "To reply."

"To what?" Jane asked gently.

Maura clung on tighter. "What you said at the house, how I was worth it all. I w-wanted to tell you, Jane—that no matter what happened here, I want you to know that you don't ever have to worry about my allegiance or where my heart lies. I'm am always, _always _on your side."

* * *

**A/N**: So...back in the day, when I was first writing this story, I had planned on Doyle dying similar to a situation in the season 2 finale. But as I kept writing, I kept not wanting to get Dean involved too much, and I didn't want a minor character to kill him. So I decided what this western was missing was a proper showdown, and I hope it didn't disappoint too many of you. Thanks for reading!


	44. Baggage

**A/N**: Wow, sorry for the delay! Things have been a little hectic on my side lately. Where'd we leave off? Doyle dies in a show-down.

* * *

Maura could talk all she wanted about being on Jane's side, and it was true: she put up with a lot. She hadn't hesitated much to allow a showdown between Jane and Doyle, as it was rather obvious which one really cared about her the most. Less selfishly, if it had to be one or the other, it should have been the lawman anyway. She was determined not to say or do anything that would make Jane feel like she had been rash, like she'd done something wrong. But the very fact that she said and did nothing was kind of the problem: Jane felt like she was being shut out.

It wasn't even anything Maura was doing consciously. Doyle suddenly reappearing so violently, only to be extinguished just as suddenly and even more violently, was beyond jarring. Maura did not know how to feel about it. Technically the man was her father, and while she despised him and everything he stood for, she couldn't help feeling strange that she didn't feel worse.

She had been brought up to believe that there was nothing more important or valuable than family. That was why Desmond had seen to it that she saw her mother frequently, even while several townspeople encouraged him to punish his absent wife (whom he had never divorced) by keeping the child restricted to America. In his own twisted way, Doyle had also made it clear that family was important to him. Maura felt no loyalty and very little sympathy towards him, and yet his death made her feel a little ill at ease.

_How different was his life from Jake Wyatt's, really? Taking the law into his own hands, acting as criminals' judge and jury… doing as only he saw fit._

The night after the showdown, neither had had an easy time of falling asleep. Jane lay on her back and Maura was on her side, one arm resting over Jane's stomach. It was an uneasy closeness, necessary to convey dedication to their attachment, but Maura was still very rattled by what had transpired. Jane woke up the next morning to discover that Maura had already left, which was very unusual: she hardly ever got out of the house before Jane. Jane rolled out of bed and pulled on a shirt, starting to worry that she had acted too rashly towards Doyle.

There was a small note on the nightstand by Maura's bed that put her a little more at ease: _Much to be done today, and I did not wish to wake you. I hope you sleep well, my dearest love. _

Jane got to the Sheriff's office in time to learn that Cavanaugh and Dean had already moved on, looking for more outlaws to bring down. Doyle's body was being prepared for burial, something that Jane was determined would not come to pass until Maura had said her farewell to it if she wished. Once Frost got back from his morning walk-around, Jane asked Korsak if she could speak with him and the other deputies. Frankie was called inside, and he and Frost sat down next to Korsak's desk. All three men looked attentively up at Jane, who was standing in front of them with her hands held lightly at her hips, trying to decide how to go about this.

Heel-toe, heel-toe. Her boots clacked loudly against the wooden floor as she paced slightly.

"Reckon I owe you fellas an explanation," she finally said, staring downwards.

"Who is—who _was _Patrick Doyle?" Frankie asked. Jane stopped and looked at him. "I mean, Doyle and Cavanaugh seemed a mite… obsessed."

"For all intents and purposes, he was the Jake Wyatt of the eastern United States," Jane said, and Frankie's expression darkened noticeably. "And like he told ya, he was Maura's father."

"I heard that," Korsak said, shaking his head. "But I can't believe it. Maura's father was a doctor. He was a good man, he taught her medicine."

Jane shrugged. "That's what we thought, too. Maura grew up thinkin' that. We met him when we went up to Boston all those months ago. In my opinion, he was a real brute. But I guess—what happened is he, well, he got Maura's mother in a bad way. And she decided to marry Dr. Isles on account of Doyle bein' a no-good thug who said he couldn't raise a daughter in good conscience."

"So if Maura had been a boy, she might've been raised by Doyle?" Frost asked.

That was a good point. How did Doyle know Constance would have a girl? He'd already told Maura that he did actually have a son, who apparently he'd tried to raise himself before sending him and the boy's mother out West, to escape his enemies. "I guess maybe so," Jane said with another uncomfortable shrug. "Point is, Constance got married so the baby could be born without rising any suspicion. Doyle kept an eye on Maura best he could when she was growin' up, and he always wanted the best for her. He made that pretty clear in Boston."

"Janie, why'd he try to kill you last night?" Frankie asked seriously.

Jane looked sadly at him, while Frost and Korsak exchanged a brief, knowing look. While Korsak knew for sure, Frost had only ever guessed at the true nature of Jane and Maura's relationship; all he'd yet to do was formally confirm it with Jane. He didn't have to. Nor did he have to ask Korsak whether he thought Doyle had somehow discovered it also, and wanted to keep pure his prairie rose of a daughter.

"The man had a sick mind," Jane finally said. "Probably never made him happy to see another man raise his daughter, and do such a fine job of it. Probably made him mad, made him jealous that Maura loved Desmond Isles so much, and despised him when they finally met. Man might not be proper himself, but he had an idea of what young ladies and propriety should be like. He wasn't so happy to learn Maura and Mr. Fairfield called it quits …on account of me."

"Well did you tell him?" Frankie almost yelled. "Did you tell him how the _proper _Mr. Fairfield paid nearly a hundred dollars for a crazy man to kidnap you? Did you tell Doyle _that _was how desperate Fairfield was to control something as simple as who his fiancé was friends with?"

This anger on her behalf was not something Jane was prepared for, and emotion hit her suddenly. She reached for the dirtied handkerchief in her pocket and under the guise of wiping her face, bought time to stave off tears, as well.

"Funny enough, we didn't have time to explain that," Jane said. "Like I said, Doyle was a furious man, not all there in the head. Reasoning with him wasn't an option."

"You gonna be all right?" Frost asked. "Is _Maura _gonna be all right?"

"Yeah, I think so," Jane muttered. "Far as she's concerned, that man wasn't her father. Nothin' but a cold-blooded killer. Here's the thing, boys." She stepped forward and put her fists, knuckle-first, on Korsak's desk. "I know I can trust you to keep a secret, so I'm tellin' ya to keep it to yourselves. So far as anyone knows, Maura's father _was _a doctor, not a crook. We just got caught in the crosshairs of one of Doyle's schemes, understand?"

"Understood," the three of them said back.

Jane straightened up. "Then I don't wanna hear another word about it." She pulled her hat onto her head, tugging on the brim with unnecessary roughness. "Frankie, come along with me today. I wanna see how the plans for that mine development are comin' along north of Wohaw Springs."

They saddled up and rode in silence for a short while. Frankie kept shooting furtive glances over at his sister, who never returned the favor. While Frankie liked to sit upright as possible on his horse, doing his best to appear attentive and on top of things (not to mention official), there was a certain lazy looseness to Jane's style. Miss Dolores would have doubtless been horrified by her laid-back posture. He was still getting used to seeing Jane's hands bare, which was especially odd given that most riders he knew would wear gloves while holding some reins, but Jane didn't seem to care. She looked casual and at home, and Frankie was constantly in awe of her.

When she'd leave for years at a time, people would suggest that Frankie ought to be ashamed of her. She didn't act like a woman should, didn't talk or dress or interact with men in the ways she should. She was reckless and selfish and dangerous.

But he was, as he had always been, in awe of her.

Nobody in his life had ever been as strong as Jane. There was nobody he looked up to more, or wished he could be more like. Especially after their father died, there was no one else he'd rather receive a proud look from than Jane. She didn't want for destiny to manifest itself; she went and chased it down, dragging it out of whatever corner it was hiding in. She didn't go around demanding respect because to a point, she didn't care if she got it. It was just that her presence _commanded _so much respect, Frankie had no choice but to give it to her.

Just over a year ago, she'd told him that she had found the man who killed their parents, and she had killed him. Essentially, that was all the information he'd got. She planned to up and leave again, but mysteriously decided to stay inside. And only a few days after telling him of her planned departure, she had started building a house for her and Maura to live in.

"Frankie?" Jane said, once they'd reached the outskirts of town. "I wanted to thank ya for what you said to Doyle." He'd been so scared and trying to hide it through that whole ordeal that he needed to ask her for clarification. "You told him I'd never hurt Maura."

"Well, that's true, isn't it?" Frankie asked. "Obviously he didn't know his own daughter if he thought Maura was… hurting herself in any way by living with you."

"Think it's bad?" Jane asked quietly. "Bad that I'm keeping her from gettin' married?"

Frankie shrugged. "You're not. If Maura doesn't want to get married after everything that happened with Fairfield, that's _her _choice. I think it's good she's got a friend like you around."

Jane wanted to reply properly, but her throat felt dry. She nodded and hoped Frankie saw it. Another few moments passed, and she said, "Guess you're sorry Riley left, huh? You been writing to her?"

He sighed loudly, and there was detectable dejection in his voice when he answered, "Wyoming sure feels like it's a far ways away. I wrote to her, yeah. I kinda thought she felt the way about me that I felt about her, but if she wanted to get herself educated first, that's …a nice thing, I suppose."

"Sure it is. An uneducated woman wouldn't work for you, Frankie. You'd get bored havin' to be the smart one all the time."

He chuckled at that one. "I suppose that's true."

"So will she come back to ya, once she's done with school?"

"She might, if I ask. And I aim to ask, maybe once I've got a bit more money saved up."

"Good," Jane said softly. "Good. I think Angela will be thrilled to see one of us kids properly settled down, and the way I see it, you may be her best and only chance."

Frankie's horse stopped to try and take a bite out of some nearby plant life, and Frankie used his attempt to disengage it as a way to keep from thinking too much about the conversation they were about to have. "Don't think there's a chance with Tommy, huh?"

Jane watched Frankie struggle with his horse. _If there was hope with Tommy, he'd have married Lydia a long time ago. _"No," she said flatly.

"So he's already told you, then."

"Did he tell _you?_"

"Night before last." Frankie finally succeeded in getting his horse's attention back, and they continued down the road, where he kept his eyes determinedly away from Jane. "Said he wanted my advice, but then he didn't wanna take it."

"What'd you tell him?"

"I told him to marry the girl! Told him to be responsible and do what he could for the kid."

"Responsible, hm? Guess he didn't like that."

"He ain't ready, Jane. He ain't ready to be a father, and he ain't interested in trying. I don't know where the hell this girl is or how she feels about it, but something tells me…"

He trailed off, and Jane anxiously asked, "Tells ya what?"

"Something tells me we're gonna end up raising it." Finally, Frankie looked at Jane, who appeared to be torn between wanting to smile and repress it all at once. "Janie? I know you didn't ever want to get married, but are ya sorry you can't have kids?"

"Truth, Frankie? Never thought I wanted 'em. Hell, you know I ain't had an easy time of livin'. Most of the people I've met ain't worth meeting, and some of the lives I've known ain't worth living. I didn't see how it could be a good thing to bring a baby into my world. But lately …I thought, maybe there's kids out there who were like us. Orphaned. They're here and can't help it, and I want to do what I can to be some baby's Angela. Take him in, teach him up, give him a good life if I can."

"Maura—she wants kids?"

It was Jane's turn to sigh. "More than anything, I think."

"Me, too."

"Don't give up on Riley, then. You'll be a good father, Frankie. I hope you know that."

"Thanks, Jane. I think I'd be all right." He shifted his horse close enough so he could nudge Jane's arm. "I think you'd be pretty good at it yourself." Jane smiled hesitatingly at him, and he beamed in return. "I won't give up on Riley if you won't give up on finding on orphan."

She laughed and held out her hand for him to shake. "Deal."

Neither Frankie nor Jane wished the worst for Tommy; they were just trying to be prepared for what experience had taught them to expect. Jane vowed to give him a good talking-to the next time she saw him (although considering he was actively trying to avoid her, that would probably be harder than usual). In the past she might have thought that being a father would force Tommy into responsibility, that it would make him grow and perhaps help him be a better person. But he was too young and apparently too scared. She hoped that Lydia, the girl, was at least being taken care of in some way, that Tommy had totally abandoned her in his concern for his own well-being.

He didn't exactly take care of her, but Maura did.

True to her word, she went back to the bordello where Lydia was staying more than once a week, doing what she could to restore as much of Lydia's health as possible. Ignored by Tommy and long disowned by her mother, Lydia had nobody to fight for her, and she felt too physically and emotionally weak to do it herself. Maura refused payment (which Lydia would not have been able to sufficiently provide, anyway), feeling dreadfully sorry that a boy as nice as Tommy had turned out to be so… well, cruel.

"You seen him lately?" Lydia asked. Maura had been coming regularly for a month now, and the baby was due in a number of weeks. "Seen Tommy?"

"I haven't," Maura answered mournfully, handing Lydia a bowl of blancmange after a protein-heavy dinner of eggs and salmon. "Here, Lydia, eat this. It'll go down your throat smoothly."

Lydia's voice was hoarse when she thanked Maura, and took the bowl. But she didn't lift the spoon, instead staring down at the white substance inside. Maura thought she was about to ask what the food was, but instead, Lydia whispered, "I don't think he's ever gonna come back."

"Don't say that," Maura whispered, although she had no problem privately believing Lydia could be right. Jane had been getting more and more frustrated at home with her inability to locate her younger brother. "He… maybe he's off trying to make you all some money. He didn't ever earn much around here—I'm sure he'll send something back soon."

"I just want him to be here," Lydia sniffed. "I want him here, Dr. Isles, but he don't want me. And he shouldn't have done what he done if he didn't want to be here."

"You're right, he shouldn't have," Maura agreed. "Tommy just wasn't thinking. But Lydia, I promise you that I am doing everything that _I _can for you and the baby. I am." She smiled a little when Lydia tried the blancmange. "Do you think it will be a boy or a girl?"

Lydia shrugged half-heartedly. "I dunno. You're the doctor, ain't ya? If you don't know, how can I know? I did always kinda want a little boy, though. And I used to think maybe I'd like to name him after Tommy—Thomas junior. We could call him TJ so nobody'd get confused! And if it was a girl, just something pretty. Like Rose, or Lily, or Ivy." She laughed softly and swallowed down some more of the food. "Those are all flowers, huh?"

"And very pretty names, too. Don't worry, Lydia. You are my most important patient, now. You and TJ, or Rose, Lily, or Ivy."

She smiled, but Lydia looked up and was frowning. "You think the baby's chances are good?"

Maura nodded.

"H-how about me? Are my chances good?"

Maura didn't respond right away, and that told Lydia everything she needed to know. Her own mother had been a midwife, and she'd witnessed several women dying in childbirth. And many of those women had been reasonably healthy, giving birth in beautiful rooms of well-kept homes after nine months of attentive care from a professional doctor. How could she hope with any degree of realism to live when she had been living in such squalid conditions until very recently?

"Don't worry, Dr. Isles," she said, reaching out and touching Maura's arm. "I know you're gonna do what you can. I don't know why, but you are." She furrowed her brow, waiting for Maura's eyes to meet hers. "Why _are _you, Dr. Isles?"

"Tommy's sister is my closest friend. I love his family."

"Then you should be ashamed of me," Lydia said. "You're a lady, and…"

"And I was born out of wedlock." Seeing Lydia's reaction to this, Maura finally understood Jane's expression of being able to knock a person over with a feather. "I discovered it only recently, and it's an odd thing, Lydia. For a short time, I felt plagued by the knowledge, and I felt guilty on behalf of my mother. But the thing is, I believe I turned out very nicely. Don't you?" When Lydia nodded fervently, Maura continued, "I am a product of the man who raised me. I grew up believing he was my legitimate father."

"Weren't you a product of your mother, too?"

"Yes, but she lived in France, and I lived in America. I saw her very rarely."

"Oh."

"My point is that I see no reason to discredit your child's right to live or his—and your—right to good care based solely on the instance that brought you here," Maura said, and as she saw tears leaking out of Lydia's eyes, she realized she was crying as well. "My life has been frightening at times, Lydia, but it has also been so blessed. I feel as though my eyes have been opened, and I wish to help not only those who are sick but those who have been tossed aside by a vain and condemning society. If you feel you cannot speak…" She leaned closer, resting her hand against Lydia's forehead to feel for a temperature. "I would be proud to speak for you."

She got home a little later than usual that night, and was greeted by the sight of Jane sitting on the front porch with Magnum's head in her lap. The dog jumped to his feet and bounded towards Maura when she had gotten off her horse, but Jane remained seated. Maura took her time indulging Magnum, a little anxious at Jane's lack of enthusiasm.

"Hey, where you been this week?" Jane asked when Maura finally approached her.

"Around," Maura replied evasively.

Jane stood up when Maura headed towards the door, and she stepped between the doctor and her destination. "Not good enough," she said softly, handling the doorknob. "C'mon, Maura, don't hold out on me. I'm dying over here."

"Are you ill?" Maura asked concernedly.

"No, I'm just feelin' like maybe I made a mistake with Doyle," Jane said anxiously, rubbing the back of her neck. "You ain't hardly looked at me since it happened, and we ain't hardly had time to talk on account of your bein' gone all the time. I just wanna make sure that… that _you're _sure you're gonna be all right."

Maura's heart nearly broke at the look of concern on Jane's face, and she reached out to touch her cheek. "Darling, I'm not upset with you," she said quietly. "That would be horrifically hypocritical of me, wouldn't it? I've been a little preoccupied lately with something."

"With what? Honey, you said yourself we shouldn't be keeping secrets from each other. That's not what bein' a good spouse is about."

"I suppose not," Maura admitted, turning and leaning back against the house. "I know you've been very worried about Tommy, Jane, and his child. I've been nervous about it myself. So I've been seeing Lydia."

"You found her?"

"Yes."

"Well where is she? Where can I—"

"I don't want you to talk to her," Maura said, reaching out and pressing Jane gently back against the door."

"Why the hell not?"

"You get agitated too easily. She's in a very fragile state, and even if you're angry at your brother for what he's done, I know there's also a part of you that blames her for taking him down, and I don't think that's fair." She felt justified when Jane didn't refute this, instead sullenly folding her arms. "She needs help, Jane, and plenty of it. All I've been doing is treating her like any other patient I would who was expecting a baby. You said yourself that it's going to be family, and your family is my family. Therefore we have an obligation to see to his health—and Lydia's, by extension. If I just let you walk in and see her like this, you'd aggravate her."

Jane kicked at a rock on the porch, resentful that Maura could read her so easily. "I suppose you're right about that. Guess I've got a bit of a temper now and then."

"Oh, just now and then, hm?"

Catching the smirk in Maura's tone, Jane turned to look at her and smiled a bit. "What exactly keeps you around, Dr. Isles?"

"I think you know what."

"Yeah, I guess I do." She reached for Maura, pulling her into a loose embrace. "You know, you've done what I thought was nigh impossible: you domesticated me."

"I have not."

"You have. I don't take risks like I used to, and I kinda miss that."

"You don't think killing Jake off was a risk?"

"I mean on a smaller scale. I used to do crazy stuff just for the heck of it. There's a part of me that liked the chance of maybe bein' caught. You probably ain't ever indulged in behavior like that, have ya?"

"Certainly not," Maura whispered, brushing her lips against Jane's.

"Mmm… Maura, it's been a while. I wanna make love to you."

"Then let's go inside."

"No." Jane reached for the doorknob again, beating Maura's hand there. "Not inside."

* * *

"Are you _mad?_"

"Maybe a little. Now come on, Dr. Isles."

After much prodding and begging, Maura had agreed to row across Sparrow Lake, figuring Jane had plans to fool around in the secluded alcove there. In all of her excursions to that area, they had never encountered another person, and had kissed there more than once. They had rolled around in that grass more than once. But they had never gone so far as to strip down completely, and had definitely never gone so far as to enter the lake, which is what Jane had just suggested.

"No. I won't."

"C'mon, Maura," Jane laughed. "You need to loosen yourself up a bit."

"I am by agreeing to do this here at all!"

"Didn't you say," Jane started, pulling her shirt up over her head. Maura's mouth fell open a little at the revelation that there was nothing beneath it, and Jane started to unbuckle her belt. "That you first thought about me as more than a friend when you were wonderin' how exactly I went about cleaning myself without a fancy tub? Yeah?"

"Yes…"

"So." She unceremoniously dropped her jeans, stepping out of them and pulling off her boots. "This is how. I s'pose you're welcome to just stand there and watch, if you like. Or you could try it out yourself."

It was an offer Maura couldn't refuse for very long.

Water added an entirely different facet to the whole process. With her legs wrapped around Jane's waist and Jane's arms loosely at her back, Maura was appreciating Jane's body and her strength in an entirely new way. Her sense of touch was adapting as familiar skin and familiar areas were changed, everything a little more slippery except for the odd scar, which stood out more than usual. Jane was submerged to her shoulders in the cold water, and holding Maura up, Maura's chest dipped up and down beneath or above the surface, tantalizing beyond belief.

The weightlessness provided by the water made it easy for Jane to hold Maura up with one hand, touching her wherever she wanted as Maura loosened her legs to get just for enough for Jane to reach. It was all blazingly new and comfortingly the same at once.

Their eyes adjusted with the growing darkness, and it took a considerably long time to exhaust themselves in the lake. They only started returning to shore with the begrudging acknowledgement that it would be pitch black soon, and it was high time to begin returning home. Maura, still unable to swim properly on her own, clung to Jane as she headed back for shore, but she couldn't contain herself: Jane was quickly pushed down onto her stomach on the grass with Maura right on top of her, knees on either side of Jane's waist.

"You got it in for me, don'tcha, Maura?" she groaned.

Maura leaned down, rolling her hips and kissing the back of Jane's neck. "Deputy, you take my breath away."

Jane grunted. "Yeah?" She shifted, and Maura allowed her the room to twist around so she was on her back. Faking a grimace, she threaded her fingers behind Maura's neck and demanded, "Give it back."

* * *

They got home happier than they had been in days, relieved that their dynamic had returned. Both felt energized and ready for more at home if the other was up to it, but that idea was whisked away when they got close enough to home to see Korsak sitting on their front porch.

"Well where've you two been?" he asked, once Jane had pulled the carriage within earshot.

She jumped down and helped Maura out before answering, "Took a ride over Sparrow Lake. Ain't against the law for a jaunt, is it?"

"No," Korsak said patiently. "But there's something goin' on here I think you need to be filled in on, Deputy. And you too, Doctor."

"Well don't just stand there, old man," Jane said nervously. "What is it?"

Korsak glanced at them both, then turned and opened the front door. Slightly dumbfounded, Jane and Maura looked inside, all the more confused when they saw a young boy, maybe six years old, and a girl, probably sixteen, sitting side by side on their sofa. The girl stood up.

"Jane, Maura, this is Cailin—"

"Kay," she said sharply. "I go by Kay."

"Excuse me. This is Kay Martin and her brother, Collin. They got to Mesa from the Grand Junction train earlier this evening, and finally made it to Hollow Creek."

"Why are they here?" Jane asked.

Kay was looking at Maura. "We're here to find Patrick Doyle's daughter."

* * *

**A/N**: If you're still in, I'm still interested in what you have to say. Thanks for reading, thanks for staying, folks.


	45. On the Job Training

**A/N**: So yeah, I know on the show Collin was in his twenties, but where was the fun in that? Also, I shortened Cailin's name to Kay because otherwise it would be Cailin and Collin and how obnoxious would that be? Now that I'm thinking about it, wtf was JTam thinking when she made those choices? Whatever.

* * *

Jane and Korsak looked on in stunned silence as Maura crossed the room, passing Kay and sitting on the sofa next to the boy. He had dark brown hair that had been combed flat to his head, and his eyes were slate blue, just like Doyle's. When Maura sat down, he glanced briefly at her before returning his gaze firmly to the floor. His hands were clasped as tightly as his lips were pressed together. He was trembling.

"Collin?" Maura whispered, putting a hand gently on his back. He seemed to freeze at the contact, but Maura did not remove her touch. Finally, he nodded. Maura turned in astonishment to look at Jane, who could say or express very little. Swallowing a lump in her throat, Maura whispered, "Collin. My name is Maura, Maura Isles. I'm… I'm your sister."

That got his attention. He stiffened again, but this time, he looked back at her. Maura wasn't sure what she had expected him to do, or how he might look upon receiving this information: shocked, happy, upset, confused, agitated. But she saw nothing. He betrayed nothing. His eyes looked empty, almost as if he was seeing right through her.

Kay spoke up, loudly. "Collin. Did you hear her?" He nodded. "She's Paddy's daughter, too. She can tell us where he is."

Maura inhaled sharply. "Where's your mother?"

"She died," Collin said quietly, returning his gaze to the floor.

Maura's heart sank. "She's… she died?"

"Didn't Paddy tell you? He said he'd tell you," Kay sighed. "She's been sick for a while, and he said you were a doctor, that you could maybe help her. We don't blame you for not coming, Maura. Maybe you didn't find out in time."

"What was wrong with her?" Maura asked, her throat tight.

"Our doctor said it was consumption."

_Then there would have been no hope, no matter what I'd tried. _"Your mother, too?"

It was Kay's turn to avert her gaze. "Yes. She was both of our mother. We have different fathers." She held her head up a little higher, speaking in a lofty tone. "I'm not ashamed."

"As you shouldn't be," Maura said. "You can't help the circumstances of your birth."

"Certainly not. Our mother was quite brilliant, in fact. She liked to study medicine herself, later in life. She just couldn't quite save herself, I suppose. Or my father, several years ago."

"How did you know where to find me?" Maura asked softly.

"Our mother found your name in a newspaper article about Jake Wyatt. She said she knew you were Paddy's daughter, and the article listed your home town. If something were to happen to her, we were to come find you." She shrugged. "Something happened, so here we are. And before you ask, Grand Junction. Grand Junction, Colorado. That's how far we travelled."

"You poor things," Maura said solicitously, wrapping one arm around Collin. "You must be exhausted after all that travelling."

"He's not tired," Kay said. "He's always like that."

"Little tired," he muttered.

"Of course you are," Maura said, rubbing his arm. "Why don't you lie down?"

"S'okay," he said. "Do you know where Paddy is?"

Jane nodded at Korsak, and he wordlessly left the house. Once he was gone, she caught Maura's nervous eye and walked over to the couch. Kneeling in front of Collin, she said, "Paddy ain't here right now, Collin. You miss your pop?"

There, for the first time, was an expressed emotion: confusion. His eyes seemed unusually serious for a child his age, no older than six. He opened his mouth to say something, glance at Kay, then back at Jane. "I… my mother said I should find him."

"You want to be with him?" Jane asked quietly. She kept her eyes on the boy, ignoring the fact that Maura's were practically drilling into her.

Collin clamped his mouth shut, but his eyes didn't waver from Jane. Finally, he shook his head. "I just ain't got no… other place to go," he finally said in a shuddering voice.

"You'll stay here tonight, Collin," Jane said, standing up. She looked at Kay. "Both of ya. I see your bags here—follow me, and we'll put ya in this room."

She effortlessly picked up the four bags Kay and Collin had brought with them, moving into the house's only bedroom. Kay asked whether this was where Maura slept, but Jane just told her not to mind and for both of them to go about getting ready for bed. She closed the door to give them some privacy, then walked hesitantly around the sofa, where Maura was still sitting in shock.

"That boy is my brother," she said.

"Well, your half-brother," Jane said, sitting down next to her.

"And he wants to know where our father is. Jane, you killed him. I don't—_I _don't blame you for it, but you killed that boy's father."

"Maura, that boy ain't ever had a father."

"How can you say that?"

"Men like Paddy Doyle ain't fathers, except for what you'd call a technicality. Men like Desmond Isles are fathers. Whoever it was that brought Kay in the world ain't a father, neither. Fathers don't abandon their families for the sake of selfishness, or greed. For the sake of a name. And that's all Paddy Doyle cared about, Maura, his name."

"He cared about me."

"He wanted to kill us both once he found out how we felt," Jane said through her teeth. "That ain't a kind of love I can respect. And I know—you told me how he put a grave for Collin in Boston, making his enemies think the boy was dead so they wouldn't go after him. That was decent, that was all right. And I guess maybe he was gonna visit Colorado now and again, but he wouldn't have lived out here."

"What're you saying?" Maura whispered.

"This is your brother, Maura. He ain't got his parents anymore. He's got you. What do you _think _I'm sayin'?"

Maura's mouth fell open slightly. "You want to adopt him? You want to adopt him and never tell him what happened to his father?"

"I'll tell him, you just give me time," Jane said, taking Maura's hand. "Sweetheart, we don't have a choice. He's family. He is your family. Maybe if you want we can find a more suitable place for him, but for now, dontcha see we're all that boy's got?"

"He probably didn't even know I existed until—whenever his mother sent him out here," Maura said, her gaze shifting restlessly. "And now suddenly she's dead, and we'll have to tell him his father is dead, and I'm—well, I'm…"

"Look, Maura. If Doyle was still alive, would you send Collin to him?"

"No," Maura answered quickly. "I would want him safe. I would want him with us."

"Exactly. Hell, that's obviously what Doyle would want too, if he was willin' to send the boy all the way out west."

"Where would he stay? We don't have any room, Jane."

"Sure we do. Let him and the girl stay in our bed. Tomorrow I'll see what I can dig up in town, but tonight, you'll have to take the sofa. I'll sleep on the porch."

"On the _porch? _Jane, no."

"Yes. Trust me, I sleep just fine in a chair. How many times have ya seen me doze off just sittin' in the afternoon sun, hm?" A short silence. "That's what I thought."

"What _about _the girl, though?" Maura asked. "What about Kay? We aren't related."

"She's an orphan, ain't she?"

"She's practically a woman. She's not a child anymore."

"She's lost, Maura. I could see it. She needs help."

"_Our _help?"

Jane shrugged hopelessly. "She could do worse." She put her arm around Maura, pulling her close and kissing her forehead. "Honey. Honey… this is all going to work out, trust me. This is maybe what we've been waiting on, okay?"

"It's not what I expected," Maura said, trying to stave off tears. "I didn't want Collin's mother t-to die—"

Jane kissed her forehead again, rubbing her arm consolingly. "Of course you didn't, sweetheart. Of _course _you didn't. That ain't what I'm sayin'. Here's the facts as we know 'em, okay?" She lowered her voice. "You and me? We can't have our own kids. Collin ain't got his own parents anymore, and neither does Kay. They came to us."

"For help."

"And we'll give 'em a home."

Before Maura could respond, the bedroom door opened, and both women turned to look at it. Kay was standing in the doorway, arms folded, looking as dour as ever. "You're sure we're not putting you out?" she asked, sounding bored.

"Certainly not," Jane replied, looking chipper as she stood back up and walked towards the bedroom. "I just need to grab a few things myself, and we'll be outta your hair for the night."

She strode inside and went for the dresser, getting some of Maura's nightclothes. Collin was watching her with a hint of nervousness, and Kay went back to the bed. As soon as she sat down, Collin reached for her arm, grabbing it and closing his eyes. Jane's expression softened a little, moved by the devotion Collin clearly felt for the girl—and which, it seemed, she didn't quite return. Once she had collected everything she needed, Jane exited the bedroom, closing the door softly behind her as Kay blew out the candle on the nightstand.

"Look here," Jane said, tossing Maura some clothes. "Got that blanket Adelaide sewed for ya that you like so much. I think it'll be right comfy on the sofa here."

"Were you serious about sleeping on the porch?" Maura asked, starting to unbutton her clothes.

"Maura, I used to live off the land, remember?"

"Yes, but I've spoiled you."

Jane laughed. "Then it's about time I got back to my old ways for a spell, just so I can remember how good I've got it now."

Once Maura had changed into the blue nightgown Jane had brought out, she reclined on the sofa and closed her eyes. "I won't be able to sleep."

"Yes, you will."

"Stay with me until I do?"

"Of course."

There wasn't really room for Jane to sit on the sofa while Maura was lying down on it, so she sat on the floor by the end where Maura's head was. Their hands found each other, and rather than try to fill the growing darkness with more words, they let silence stay. All of this would have to be figured out in the morning; it could wait until then. It would have to. Jane waited by the sofa until she could tell by Maura's slackened grip that the woman had finally fallen asleep. She had no idea how much time had passed, only that it was well past midnight. Moving as quietly as she could, Jane slipped her fingers free and got to her feet. Fortunately Maura was a light sleeper, and wasn't much disturbed when Jane pulled the front door open, nor when she allowed Jo Friday inside.

As for herself: Jane sat in one of the chairs on the porch, next to the spot where Magnum was sleeping peacefully. Jane had to smile at him. He was a rambunctious dog, and the times when he was asleep were some of the only times he ever truly seemed at rest.

Considering how tired she was, Jane could easily have shut her eyes any time. But something told her to keep awake and alert. It was an instinct that proved correct when, an hour later, the front door creaked open. For a moment, Jane thought it was Maura coming to check on her, but it was Kay. Two bags were in her hand.

"Hey." Jane had waited to speak until the moment Kay had closed the door. At the sound of another voice, she had nearly dropped her bags, whirling around to face Jane. Kay's eyes hadn't yet had a chance to get accustomed to the dark outside, but Jane could see her fearful expression—she was about to try and cover what she was doing, but she had no idea how. "Goin' somewhere?" Jane asked.

"I've done my job," Kay replied curtly.

Jane nodded at the chair next to her. "Sit down."

"I don—"

"Sit. _Down._"

Kay had had the displeasure of meeting Patrick Doyle exactly two times. In both instances he had given off an aura of sheer intimidation, letting you know he was accustomed to getting his way. Out of stubbornness, she had never wanted to bend to him. She wouldn't be weak like her mother in that regard. But this woman, here: she was threatening without having to raise her voice or pull a gun. After deliberating for a moment, Kay sat in the empty chair.

"How old are you?" Jane asked.

"Sixteen, my last birthday."

"All grown up, huh?"

"Grown up enough to marry, and that's good enough for me."

"Have a fella, do ya?"

"I do. He's waiting for me."

"Back in Grand Junction?"

Kay fidgeted for a moment. "Boston."

"Boston. How long you been away from there?"

"One year and four months."

"Not happy about that, I take it?"

"No. And incidentally, who are you, exactly?"

"I'm Maura's companion for the foreseeable future."

"Who do y—"

"I'm askin' the questions here, Kay. What were you doin' trying to sneak out in the middle of the night, hm? Tryin' to catch the next train outta here, back to Boston? Huh, kid?"

Kay waited a good while before responding. Her eyes had finally adjusted, and she realized there was either a large dog or a small wolf lying at Jane's feet. Staring out at the starry sky, she said, "Nobody asked me. No one asked me if I wanted to come out here. I was simply told and then ignored. Patrick Doyle …he wanted his son out of Boston. Collin and his mother were both in danger, so they had to go. I wasn't in danger. I had a boy who loved me, who wanted to marry me. Mother said I was too young. She said she wouldn't leave me there. I had to come with her." Kay shrugged. "And now she's gone, so I see no reason to stay."

Jane leaned forward, her voice starting to growl a bit. "You ought to show more respect for your mother, _Cailin_."

Kay practically winced at the use of her full name. "My mother didn't ever show any respect for me. I don't wish she had died, but now I'm free. I don't have to stay here anymore."

"Collin needs you."

"He'll be fine."

"He won't. You ain't leavin' here without sayin' goodbye to him. That boy's life has been upside-down since he was born. You think it's easy havin' a man like Paddy Doyle be your father? So Doyle's always runnin' out on him, and his mother up and dies. That leaves you. You're the one person that boy knows and trusts. And now my companion is the only family that boy has left besides you. He don't know her yet. He knows you. Or is this some sorta family tradition, just goin' and leavin' Collin without a word? Don't he deserve better than that?"

"You don't know anything about us."

"Hell, maybe I don't. That don't matter. Point is, I know enough. And you ain't leavin' until that boy's got his feet on the ground."

"I brought him to family, like our mother asked us to. Will Doyle even want him? I don't know, probably not if he's still in Boston. So you see, I can't take him back there with me. I have to leave him here."

"No," Jane said darkly. "You do not have to leave him. And you are not going to. You wanna go back to your Boston boy? Fine, you do that. But you ain't goin' yet. You are _far _from goin', young lady, you understand me?"

Kay had had just about enough of this complete stranger telling her how to live her life. "I'm going, and you can't stop me," she said, getting to her feet.

Jane stood up also. "Like hell I can't," she said, blocking Kay's path.

A brief stare-off commenced. Jane wasn't going to resort to physical violence; she crossed her arms and hoped her figure would be imposing enough to the teen-ager. Kay was searching her face, trying to spot a weakness or a way through. Trying to see if it was worth it to attempt actually crossing this woman, who at the moment looked capable of breaking stone if she had to. It definitely seemed odd that she was so adamant about Collin's well-being, even if it was nice of her. Oh, Collin. She did have a point. That boy seemed to have the bad luck of always being left behind. That was why she had tried to leave in the night, so she wouldn't have to see his face when she went away.

"Fine," she said coolly. "I will stay. For Collin, for the time being."

"Thank you," Jane responded. "Go ahead back inside, now. Take you bags, too."

"Aren't you coming in?"

Jane smiled and sat back down. "Oh, no. No, no. I'm stayin' right here."

And she was true to her word. The next morning found Jane sitting with her feet propped up on the porch railing, watching the occasional townsperson pass on his way to Green Forge. The sun had been up a few hours by the time Maura opened the front door.

"Mornin', beautiful," Jane said brightly.

Maura, it appeared, was not in the mood for pleasantries. She looked as though she hadn't slept very well. "I am about to make breakfast. That wasn't an invitation," she said hastily, holding her hand up when Jane moved to stand. "The first thing Kay and Collin did was ask me where Doyle is. Jane."

"I know," Jane muttered. "You can't lie. I been thinkin' about this, Maura. Send Collin out here."

"What are you going to say?"

"Send him out here, Maura."

"Are you going to tell him the truth? Just on the nose?"

"I can't lie to him," Jane sighed, standing up.

"Well… why not?"

"There's a thing about lies," Jane said. "You gotta keep 'em up, and that's especially difficult when you live in a town where most other people are in on the truth. Everyone 'round here knows Doyle died in a shoot-out with me. How's Collin ever gonna trust us if we tell him different, and then he learns someplace else that I killed Doyle? How d'you think he'd feel? He's gotta trust us right off."

Maura had to admit that was a fair point. "Well…can I be here when you tell him?"

"No, Maura. You stay inside with the girl. Send me Collin."

Less than a minute later, Collin appeared by Jane's side. She looked down at him, and he raised his eyebrows at her. She started walking down off the porch, nodding for him to follow her, and he did—warily at first, considering a large black dog was tailing him, sniffing him curiously. They walked around to the back of the house, where Jane dunked her hands in a bucket of water and splashed her face to wake herself up. She took a handkerchief from her vest pocket to wipe off the excess, then threw it over a clothesline. All the while, Collin just watched her with a vague sense of curiosity.

It was a little unsettling. She'd never encountered such a quiet boy.

"Son, you and me need to have a talk."

"What's a companion?"

"What?"

"Kay said you were Maura's companion. What's that mean?"

"It means… it means we're very close, Collin. I love your sister very, very much."

His confusion deepened. "But you only just met her."

"I only just met Kay. Maura is your sister, too." Judging by his expression, he'd clearly forgotten this fact over the last few moments. "I've known Maura a while now, Collin. She's a good woman. In my opinion, she's the best woman there is. And my opinion means something around here, son. Know what this?"

She flipped a five-pointed star out of her pocket at Collin, and he barely managed to catch it. "You're a deputy?"

"You bet I am. The name's Jane."

"Oh." He handed her back the star. "Jane, you know Paddy?"

"I do. How come you call him by his first name?"

Collin shrugged. "That's all I call him, ever. I don't see him too much."

"Wish you did?" Another shrug. _That was a stupid question. The boy don't know his father. _"Collin, I'm gonna tell you somethin' that might be a little scary, okay?"

"Okay."

"How well you know your father?"

Collin's tone was contemplative. He was really trying to concentrate. "He does bad things."

"Very bad things," Jane whispered. "And he didn't want you to grow up in the same world he did. Otherwise, you'd turn out like him, and he didn't want that."

"He didn't?"

"No, no he didn't. He knew he wasn't good, Collin. He knew it. Do you know why he left Colorado recently? Know why he came here?" She sighed deeply when Collin shook his head. "It was for Maura. He wasn't so happy to come here and see us together, her without a husband."

"Why not?"

"Hard to say, Collin. He wanted Maura to be happy, but only in his way. Only through his understanding of happiness. And his understanding of happiness for her didn't include me."

"Maura …isn't happy without you?"

"No, she isn't. And I am miserable without her."

"And Paddy wanted to take you away from her?"

"Yes, he did. He was a bad fella, Collin. He tried to hurt us both."

Collin's eyes widened. "He hurt you bad?"

"We're okay now," Jane said grimly. "He's not."

"He's hurt?"

"He's…gone."

Collin looked down at the ground, and after a few moments, stumbled down into a sitting position. It dawned on Jane then that despite all her planning through the night and her belief that the boy deserved the truth, maybe it had been delivered too soon. She should have waited until he knew her and Maura better, until he had a reason to care about them and believe they were good. He knew Paddy, and the two of them were strangers. What a damn foolish thing to do, giving him the truth right off the bat. Maybe now he'd never trust them. Maybe now he'd want to go back with Kay to Boston. Well, maybe that was best after all. With Doyle gone, maybe his enemies wouldn't pay any mind to Collin …would they?

Jane finally knelt on the grass next to him, trying to get him to look at her. "Collin?" she whispered. "Talk to me, kid. Please."

"Gone," Collin squeaked. "Dead?"

Jane grit her teeth before answering. "Yes."

Collin let out a sharp breath, and for an alarming moment, Jane thought he'd burst into tears. But it was just heavy breathing, his hands clutching each other as he rocked slightly back and forth. Jane was terrified and on the verge of running to get Maura when the boy finally managed to speak:

"I don't have to live with him, then?"

"What?"

"Mother said with her gone, we'd have to go live with Paddy. And I don't—I didn't want to live with him, h-he scares me. H-he's really gone?"

"Yes, Collin," Jane whispered, grasping his shoulder. She wasn't sure what tone to strike. "He's gone."

"S-so… where should I go? Where should me and Kay go?"

Jane tightened her grip, still not sure if this was all the processing Collin would need to reconcile Doyle's death. "We're gonna figure that one out, Collin, don't you worry. You ain't gonna be in this alone."

* * *

**A/N**: Next up: Kay goes snooping around town for intel on Calamity Jane.


	46. What It's All About

Jane had always figured that growing up, she hadn't liked girls her age because she didn't feel like she fit in with them. The problem wasn't them, it was her. It wasn't their fault they liked doing the things young women were _supposed _to like, so it was only to be expected that Jane wouldn't enjoy spending time with them. Labor was a chore to them, while Jane relished the chance to get her hands dirty and roughhouse if she had to. Maybe not all of them enjoyed housework or refined activities such as needlepoint or music-making, but they endured it better than Jane. Jane would sooner light her shoes on fire than sit around in a sewing circle.

But as she took Kay to town, Jane couldn't help feeling maybe the problem hadn't been her, after all. If every girl that age was as obstinate and altogether unpleasant as Kay Martin seemed to be, Jane couldn't fathom anyone wanting to spend time with one. Although to be fair, she had to acknowledge it seemed as though Kay had been dealt a bum deal, especially recently—uprooted from her friends in Boston, then becoming her brother's guardian in one night and told to move from a big city like Grand Junction to a small pond like Hollow Creek.

"So this is the town?" she asked, sounding slightly disdainful as Jane parked the carriage by Korsak's station.

"Yes indeedy, as we say on the range," Jane replied, hopping down. She walked over to offer Kay some assistance in getting out, but Kay just shook her head and clambered to the ground. "Here's the deal, kid. I reckon you figure yourself pretty independent. Or at least you'd like to be."

"I'm old enough," Kay said.

"You certainly are," Jane said back, her tone placating, maybe even a tad condescending. Kay noticed and narrowed her eyes in annoyance, but didn't say anything as Jane folded her arms and continued to speak: "I was an orphan when I was younger than you, Kay, and I had two brothers to look after. So I know how ya feel. You've got people pullin' on ya from all directions, and it's hard, 'cause now and then a girl likes to just do as she pleases, instead of following orders and doin' what all everybody says she ought."

"Are you going to let me leave, then?" Kay asked sourly.

Jane thumbed her nose. "No, not entirely. I'm gonna send you over to Melody's boarding house, though, and see if maybe she's got any rooms to spare. If she does, maybe we'll put you up there in a few days."

Narrowing her eyes even more, Kay asked, "What's your game, huh? Last night you all but wrestled me to the floor to keep me from leaving the house. And now you want me to move out?"

"What I kept you from doin' was running out on your brother without a word," Jane said heavily. "You think you know all the answers? Take it from someone who's been there. I used to leave home a lot. I ain't sorry; I had a job to do. Wasn't bein' selfish, but I was being stupid and a little thoughtless. Lots of times I kicked myself for not givin' my brothers proper goodbyes before I left. Out there, I never knew for sure if I'd be comin' back. To some degree, I don't think my brothers did, neither. You've got your life to live, and I respect that, Kay. I do. You got a right just like anyone else to pursue happiness, but all I'm askin' is for ya to wait just a little bit longer before you do. Look, if… maybe in a week or two, we'll get ya moved into Melody's house. You'll be close by, but Collin'll be able to get used to you livin' in another place. When the time comes and you feel ready, we'll write your beau and see if he's set for you to come back to Boston. Ya can't lose."

"I'll lose time," Kay pointed out, although she saw the reason in Jane's argument.

Jane shrugged. "Y'know what I hear a lot, what I used to believe a lot? That life's short. I guess in the circumstances I was in, sometimes life _could _be short. But it ain't always so. Life is _long_, Kay. Healthy girl like you, nobody on your tail, wantin' your hide? You've got a good, long life ahead of ya. You're young, and you've put up with a lot so far. I know it seems like a lot, but all I'm askin' is for ya to give Collin a little time to adjust to life here. And then I won't stop ya."

Kay silently considered Jane for a time, her gaze then drifting to the townspeople around her. It certainly couldn't be denied that this place was a few pegs down from Grand Junction in terms of modernization and even civilization, but the people seemed cheerful enough. There was a big general store near the boarding house Jane had indicated, and even a tavern that didn't look too shabby. (Jane would have asked Angela to give Kay a room there, but as the place was often filled with intoxicated men, she didn't think that would be such a good idea.)

"Where's Doyle?" Kay sighed, not having been privy to the conversation Collin and Jane had had that morning. "My mother asked me to see that Collin was taken to him."

"Right," Jane muttered. "Well, Kay, can I be perfectly frank with ya?"

"I'd rather you were."

"Collin and Doyle ain't reuniting any time soon, not if I can help it. The man's with your mother."

Kay stared at her. "Doyle—Doyle's _dead?_" Jane nodded. "How?"

"Clean and simple," Jane answered, not really feeling the need to soft-pedal this for Kay like she had for Collin. She pulled her gun out of its holster and twirled it once around her finger. "Man broke into my house, threatened my life, and then threatened the life of my chosen companion. It was him or one of us, and as long as those were the odds, I sure as hell wasn't gonna let it be one of us."

For the first time since Jane had met her, Kay's countenance lost its haughtiness; she looked truly floored. "Does Collin know?"

"He does."

"And…"

"Maura's takin' the morning off to be with him, make sure he's okay. But it seemed to me like he wasn't too fond of that man. Said he scared him."

"I'd believe it," Kay admitted.

Jane's lip curled at the thought of Doyle trying to intimidate a small boy into respecting him. Right then it didn't matter who Doyle was. He was one of the few deaths Jane did not feel sorry about participating in. Cracking her knuckles, she said, "All right, look. I've gotta get to work here, so I'm gonna leave you be. Do I have your word that you'll stick to town, and you won't try runnin' off?"

Not able to entirely remove the scowl from her face, Kay stuck out her hand for Jane to shake. "You have my word."

Kay jumped at Jane's surprisingly strong grip. "Good girl," she muttered. She turned on her heel and walked into the Sheriff's station, nodding at Frankie. "You patrol the west side of town today, little brother. See that girl out there?" She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder, directly at where Kay was standing, looking mutely around. "She tries to pass you, you turn her right the hell back around."

Frankie looked over at Korsak, who nodded his approval, effectively sending Frankie on his way to the other side of town. "So, deputy," Korsak said, leaning back in his chair with an air of casual conversation. "So. That girl is the doc's sister?"

"No, she's only related to the boy you brought over, Collin. He and Kay have the same mother, he and Maura have the same father. I know," she mumbled, rubbing her temple when she caught sight of Korsak's expression. "It's all givin' me a royal headache. Anyhow, like ya heard last night—or did ya? Can't remember when you left—it was their mother's dyin' wish that Collin be brought back to his father. She died of an incurable disease, and Doyle died of an incurable attitude, I guess. We—I—told Collin, told both of 'em, what happened between me and Doyle."

Korsak had leaned forward in his chair. "So? What's your plan?"

Jane stopped her pacing and turned to look at Korsak, tips of her fingers pressed together. He had rarely seen her looking this vulnerable, this unsure of herself. Slowly he stood up, whispering her name in a questioning way, and she took a step back. "W-well sir, I figured that me and Maura—or, Maura, this is—she's the only family this boy's got left. The only family suited to taking care of him, I mean. His sister's still a kid and got her heart set on movin' back to Boston to marry a boy she loved there. So unless Collin wants to go back with her, and maybe get in trouble with some of Doyle's enemies, I thought maybe me and Maura could, uh… look after him here."

Korsak clapped her on the shoulder, and she twitched nervously. "You could _raise _him, Jane."

She smiled apprehensively. "I don't wanna get ahead of myself here, Korsak."

He just grinned back at her, tightening his hold on her shoulder. She lifted her hand to touch his, appreciating the gesture: he wasn't going to ever let her go, or make any more stupid mistakes. "I'm sure that boy's been through a lot, Jane, a helluva lot. So have you, and so _had _you when were you about his age. You give him time, and he'll love ya. It didn't seem right to me that you and the doc wouldn't ever get the chance to …be parents in the most basic way. It's more than just giving you that shot, though. It's about that boy bein' loved like he ain't ever been loved before, because I know you ain't gonna throw away your chance. Some people ain't fit to be parents, but through nature's course, they are forced to become such—or at the least, a shadow of such. Others who don't get that chance can often be better. They know to cherish the honor, the _privilege_, of bein' a parent."

Jane wasn't sure if that was the end of his speech or not, but she could no longer keep herself from throwing her arms around Korsak and pulling him close. He chuckled and pounded her hard on the back, returning the embrace with as much strength as he could.

She took a deep, shaky breath and said, "I consider it an honor and privilege that you been the one lookin' out for me since my Pop died," she said with a trembling voice. Korsak hugged her a little tighter, nearly squeezing a few tears free. "You were always like another father to me, Korsak. I'm sorry you didn't get the chance for your own kids, neither."

"Aw, it's all right," he whispered, pulling back and giving her shoulder another pat. "I had you, Jane. You and your brothers. And that was more than enough." Jane laughed uncomfortably, prompting Korsak to add, "I meant that as a good thing."

"I gotcha, old man. Gotcha."

Meanwhile, Kay had found her way to Melody's boarding house, and walked inside with a slight amount of trepidation. The building did not seem incredibly secure, and certainly wasn't as fancy as the one Kay had seen in Grand Junction. A short, redheaded woman was sitting at the desk in the foyer, and smiled at Kay as she approached.

"Good morning, my dear!" she chirped. "I daresay you must be new in town, yes?"

"Um, yes. My name is Kay Martin."

"Kay Martin! Glad to know ya. My name is Melody," she said, reaching over the desk to shake the girl's hand. "You need a place to stay? We've got some lovely rooms available!"

She hadn't expected the proprietress to be so friendly, and it caught Kay a little off guard. Taking a step back, she said, "I imagine that relatively soon, I may be in need of a new place to live, yes."

"A new place, hm? Where are you now?"

"I'm… I'm staying with Maura Isles. _Doctor _Maura Isles."

Melody's expression turned curious. "Oh, Miss Isles!"

"You're familiar with her?"

"Honey, everybody in this town is familiar with everybody. And there certainly isn't a soul around this county who hasn't heard of Dr. Maura Isles and Calamity Jane Rizzoli."

"Calamity Jane?" Kay asked slowly. "That the name her companion goes by?"

"Ha!" Melody laughed. Kay glanced around and noticed that a few boarders had since walked up, as if sensing gossip was about to begin, and they had clustered curiously around Melody's desk. "Yes, dear, that certainly is her companion. I was one of the first people who met Maura Isles when she came to this town, you know. Fresh as a lovely little prairie rose, she was, right out of Boston. She moved here to be with her fiancé, who was finance."

One of the women sighed forlornly. "Now _there _was a man!"

Melody nodded, looking at Kay. "Garrett Fairfield. Handsome as a fellow could be, and really rather charitable with his money, which he had _plenty _of."

"Plenty of money? Maura certainly doesn't live as though she inherited any."

"Inherited?" Melody asked, and some of the surrounding women started to titter away at Kay's ignorance. "My dear, Maura does not have a companion because she is a widow. She has one by choice. She and Jane ran Garrett Fairfield right out of town. And oh," she said, grinning at Kay's confused expression, "is _that _ever a story!"

"What happened?"

"It's hard to say for certain," Melody said. "But there was talk that Fairfield had had a hand in Jane being kidnapped. Jane was Maura's closest friend and confidant, and I reckon it would be difficult for any man to see his fiancé taking such an interest in someone else than him."

"Surely he wasn't threatened by her? If she was a man, perhaps, but—"

"Ah, I'm afraid Mr. Fairfield was a proud man, my dear. He took a backseat to man, woman, or child in Maura's life, and when _that _was threatened, he may have been upset. Justifiably, in my opinion."

"Aw, you're miffed that Maura ain't living here anymore," squawked one resident.

Another piped up, "I think Melody's right. Maura's a fool for letting that man slip through her fingers, if you ask me. He was a good man; nobody ever proved that he'd done anything wrong. He was bullied out of town by that Jane Rizzoli. I tell you, the woman ain't right in the head! And frankly, I'm not so sure our Sheriff is either if he goes around allowing _women _to be his deputies. Has he no concern for feminine decency? No respect for propriety?"

A third offered, "I don't know, Lacey. I have to say, I felt quite safe that night a man tried to rob our house, and Jane was onto him nearly seconds after he left. She's a brave woman."

"Ain't hardly a woman at all."

"The point is," Melody said loudly, "Maura threw away a great and promising future, if you ask me. Men like Garrett Fairfield aren't a dime a dozen, you know! She's a dear but a tad odd, and I'll be darned if she gets lucky enough to find another man like that again."

"Oh Melody, don't you know? Maura has no intention of marrying again, anyway. Too heartsick about losing Mr. Fairfield, I suppose, even if she _did _send him away."

"Remember that story about her and Jake Wyatt?" a young woman asked. Addressing Kay, she added, "You know who Jake Wyatt is?'

"Of course," Kay answered, looking alarmed. "I came here from Grand Junction. It was all over our papers when he was killed."

"Hm, and did you by chance see the story about the last woman he ever kissed? No? Well, it was one Maura Isles."

"_No!_"

"Yes. She was in the last saloon he ever tried to raid, and before he left, several witnesses attested that _Maura _pulled _him _into a kiss—not once, but twice! I should think a lady would be ashamed to let the story spread, and certainly would never act so indecorously. If _he _had been the one to kiss _her, _well, that might have been a different matter."

"Oh, you old bird," sighed the youngest girl. "Any woman I know, lady or not, would pay good money to have one chance at kissing Jake Wyatt!"

"The man was a scoundrel, Jean! How can you say that?"

"Handsomeness can save many a scoundrel from having to live by societal standards," explained another. "I won't lie, Jean, I'd have maybe kissed him, too. And then immediately turned him over to the authorities, of course."

"Of course."

As they continued to discuss Jake Wyatt, Kay slowly backed out of the boarding house. She had just about reached her capacity for mindless gossip, and her head was starting to swim with all the newfound information. Glancing at the Sheriff's station as she passed, she headed in the direction of the General Store, wondering if perhaps she could find something there to entertain her. The other option was returning to Maura's house, but if she recalled correctly, it was a bit of a hike that she did not feel like taking at the moment. Besides, it seemed she had quite a bit to think about before addressing Maura Isles again.

A little after one o'clock, Jane rode her horse back up to the house. She had agreed to stay there with Collin while Maura saw to her afternoon appointments, after they learned that Collin (understandably) did not care to accompany her. She shrugged when Maura asked how Kay had been that morning, then offered to bring her back to the house when she had finished her rounds. Jane said that would be fine, and set to work removing her gloves and hat.

"Jane, I hope you don't mind, but… Collin is in the cellar."

"What for?"

"He wanted to explore the house, and I think he liked it down there. Don't be too upset with him, please; I know that's where you like to be alone."

"Hey, I ain't gonna be upset," Jane said gently, reaching for Maura's hands. "Matter of fact, it might be kinda nice havin' a boy around the place."

"As opposed to me, you mean?" Maura asked, pretending to act offended.

"I told ya you were through down there once ya tried for the _third _time to put that lacy rug down there. Ain't the rest of the house prettified enough for ya?"

"Yes, of course," Maura said, needlessly straightening Jane's bolo tie and giving her a quick kiss. "I'll be back this evening, dear."

"And I'll be here."

Once Maura had left, Jane walked unsurely towards the cellar door. It was just barely ajar, and she nudged it open with her boot, calling down softly to Collin. There was no response. As she descended the stairs, she reflected on how different he seemed to be from any young boy she'd ever known. A loud boy, an energetic boy, she knew how to handle and joke around with. Someone like Jackson Hughes, the son of Maura's friend back in Boston, who had idolized her and wanted to spend every waking minute with her. Collin was disarmingly quiet, and apparently liked keeping to himself. He seemed to harbor no desire to act out or be noticed in any way. _Wonder if Doyle robbed him of any of the fun and innocence he deserved. Didn't do him any favors, ever._

She got to the cellar and nearly thought he wasn't there. But then she walked closer to the project she had mostly recently been working on, and saw him tucked away inside. After months of borrowing Korsak's rowboat every time she wanted to take Maura across Sparrow Lake, Jane had finally decided to start building her own. At present, she had completed only the outside, the shell: there were no seats and no paddles.

Collin had taken a quilt and crawled inside. He was fast asleep, and Jo Friday was curled up at the end of the boat, snoozing away as well. Jane was about to quietly turn around and walk back up the stairs when suddenly Magnum appeared by her feet, barking his head off. She grabbed him around the neck, holding him back, preventing him from lunging into the incomplete boat he knew to be his master's property. He would even growl at Maura if she so much as headed for the stairs of the cellar.

At the noise, Collin woke up immediately. Catching Jane's eye, he instantly shielded his face with his arms, tucking himself away into the far end of the boat. "Don't hurt me, don't hurt me!" he cried, knees pulled up to his chest. "P-please, don't hurt me!"

Jane wasn't sure if he was addressing her or the dog, and she hurriedly sent Magnum back up the stairs. Snarling defensively, he obeyed and clambered up the steps. Jane turned back to Collin, hoping this would eradicate his fear, but he was still sitting that way, as if trying to fold up into himself and hide from view. He flinched when Jane came to kneel by him.

"S-sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Hey," Jane said quietly, reaching for his arm. He flinched again, whimpering, and she withdrew her touch. "Hey. Collin. I ain't gonna hurt ya, I promise."

"M-Maura said it was all right to come down here," he said.

"It _is_, Collin. It's fine. Magnum's just a little sensitive to strangers in the boat, that's all."

"Magnum?"

"The dog."

"The dog…" Collin slowly lowered one arm, looking at Jane. "I thought it was a wolf," he admitted, looking embarrassed.

"Yeah, he's a scary fella sometimes, ain't he?" Jane asked, smiling by way of letting Collin know everything was all right. "Know why I got him? So that when I ain't here, if anyone tries to bring trouble into my house, he won't be able to lay a hand on the people I love. Magnum'll get him."

"He almost got me," Collin said shakily.

"That's 'cause he don't know you yet. Once he understands you're part of the pack, he'd give his life for ya."

When that sank in, Collin said, "I don't want him to die for me. I don't want anyone to die for me."

"Well, son, I think we can accommodate that."

"What?"

"It means, uh… we'll make sure nobody ever has to. Accommodate. Your sister taught me that word."

"My…oh. You mean Maura?"

"Yes. She taught me lots of things. She's right brilliant, Collin."

"She's a doctor."

"And a darn good one, if you ask any soul in this county ever come to her with a wound or a sob story." She surveyed him a few moments more, watching as he slowly seemed to relax again, still clutching the quilt. "You looked mighty peaceful asleep right there."

"It felt safe inside. I liked it."

Jane tapped her jaw, sighing. "Hmm. Well, maybe we'll have to accommodate you in terms of sleeping quarters here, too. Ain't no trouble."

"Trouble" seemed to be a good word to describe Kay, who had nearly started plenty of it by asking various townsfolk about Garrett Fairfield and Maura. The scandal of his possible involvement with Jane's kidnapping was a controversial topic that it seemed had finally been put to rest. But here it was being unearthed again, friends loudly arguing over whether he had been a reprobate or a wronged man. Some women still swooned over him, and some people questioned the rightness or legitimacy of Maura giving up married life to be with a loose cannon like Jane Rizzoli. For those who appeared to be very preoccupied with propriety, Kay noticed they seemed to have no problem with gossip or expressing their anger or envy.

Maura was on the receiving end of a few pitiable looks as she collected Kay at the tailor's. "Has something happened in town?" she asked curiously, starting their carriage off.

"Oh, I've just been doing a little investigative work," Kay replied. "You're not my relative, Maura, but Jane says she wants me to stay with you folks anyway. Keep my eye on Collin."

"I'm sure he would appreciate that, especially for the time being. You've both just suffered a tremendous loss."

"Yes, I know. I just wanted to be a little more informed about who exactly it was we were staying with. You and Miss, um, Calamity Jane?"

"Ah, yes," Maura sighed, though she was smiling. "She continues to be an enigma to many, but I hope you see that her heart has always been in the right place. I trust her with my life. I would trust her with anything."

"That's the general consensus, I gathered," Kay said, prompting Maura to wonder just how many people she had spoken to. "And I have a few questions, if you don't mind my asking them."

"I suppose you've the right to."

"Yes. Well." She sat a little straighter, trying to catch Maura's eye, but the doctor kept her gaze determinedly on the road. "I heard quite a bit about this man, a Mr. Garrett Fairfield." At the mention of his name, Maura noticeably tensed, but said nothing. "And there were several phrases that kept reoccurring, especially among the female population of your town. Missed opportunity. Shame. Luck. From what I've heard, you _were _quite lucky to have snatched a fiancé like that." Her tone was honestly curious, not snide, when she said, "All I've heard is a lot of gossip, and I'm curious to know the truth. Weren't you lucky to have someone like Mr. Fairfield, Maura?"

Tears stung at her eyes, but Maura was smiling when she finally decided on what to say. "Love isn't supposed to be about luck," she answered. They rolled up to the house, where Collin was sitting on the porch petting Magnum's back, while Jane sat in a chair with her boots up the rail, whittling some wood. "It's about being with the right person."


	47. Parental Problems

**A/N**: So below we have a reference to _The Help_ (sort of), and also the canonical relationship between Maura and Lydia (also sort of). I found it really sweet how eager Maura was to help this girl, and also in character for Jane to be sort of snappish around her. The whip Maura uses in this story is a little less harsh than the one she used to get Jane to go to that lamaze class in the show, though. Anyway.

* * *

_Dear Peter,_

_ I'm afraid quite a bit has transpired since our last correspondence, and not much of it is good news. You had heard most recently that my mother was struggling with consumption, and two weeks ago, she succumbed to that dreadful disease. According to her, it was only a matter of a time, no matter how hopeful she had tried to be for Collin and (to a degree, I believe) herself. I lost her long before the actual event of her passing. Formally I do mourn her, but the sting of death does not feel as sharp as it might if she had not distanced herself from me for so long. I do think she was wishing to spare me._

_ As her health dwindled, I found myself put more and more in charge of being my brother's keeper. Our mother's final request was that I bring Collin to his father, who I have already told you about. Elusive at best, cruel at worst. Through him, mother found Collin's only other living relative, with whom he is currently staying._

_ This is where it begins to get complicated: Collin and I have the same mother and different fathers. Collin and Maura Isles have the same father and different mothers._

_ In trying to find someone who could take us to Collin's father, we have placed him in custody of someone who is apparently responsible for the man's death. I shouldn't worry about that too much if I were you, though; Collin is not upset at the thought of having lost Doyle. I can hardly blame him when Doyle was such a brute and so cold towards his own son. He was nothing more than a common criminal, and Deputy Rizzoli was right to rid the world of a soul like him._

_ Right. Collin is now with his half-sister Dr. Maura Dorothea Isles, and her friend "Calamity" Jane Rizzoli. Before getting a room of my own in the local boarding house, I stayed with them as well, and one would be hard-pressed to find a pair who more closely resembled night and day._

_ Maura represents the epitome of desirable femininity: she is soft-spoken, calm, gentle, collected, and always impeccably dressed in the latest styles. Her interests vary from medicine (her chosen profession) to archery to literature to baking. Like me, she was born and raised in Boston; unlike me, she came out West of her own free will—essentially, that is. Her fiancé had come out to Arizona for work, and she chose to follow him and stay in his town before they were married. The fiancé has since gone, and Maura has stayed. It is my understanding that she has sworn off marriage entirely, even though she is a perfectly lovely creature and would no doubt have any number of marriage offers by a wide spectrum of gentlemen at any given time._

_ It seems that rather than enjoy the pleasures a marriage would bring (perhaps she is afraid?), Maura has instead decided to live out the remainder of her life with this Jane Rizzoli. Having never been close to many girls myself, I must say I have never seen a friendship quite as close—and inexplicable—as theirs. The bond appears unbreakable, no matter how different they are._

_ Jane is Maura's opposite in nearly every way. She is loud, occasionally crude, she swears, she hollers, and I have only ever seen her dressed exclusively in men's attire. She would rather roll around in the dirt with her dogs than sit in a sewing circle, and I daresay it's quite obvious she has no intention of ever getting a husband. From what I hear, Jane used to be even more wild than she is now; Maura likes to joke that she "tamed" the wild beast. It's rather remarkable to think that in this wild territory, a Sheriff has seen fit to make a woman one of his deputies, but Jane gets the job done. You can tell she is proud to wear her star._

_ Collin is, I think, at a loss of what to make of her. Despite how I've described her, I have noticed Jane does seem to possess a certain maternal quality. Sometimes I wonder if it is her way of reconciling with God the fact that she will never bear children of her own: she seems very eager to build a relationship with my half-brother, but in my opinion, he is wary of her._

_ Three days ago, Maura had brought him to the boarding house to have lunch with me. I was waiting on the porch to greet them, and I saw them walking down the street when suddenly there was a large shout from the building next door, and a wicker chair was thrown from the window. As if this was not odd and startling enough on its own, the chair was soon followed by the body of a tall and aggressive looking man. The Sheriff came running out of the door of the building, and Jane jumped through the broken window and landed on the ruffian she'd just tossed out. Naturally he tried to throw her off, but she gave his head a good punch (I know I ought to have looked away, but I could not bring myself to) and held him down by the collar. Her nose was bleeding and I believe her lip was as well, and she swore something awful while the Sheriff handcuffed the man._

_ It caused quite a stir, and Maura rushed Collin over to me and, from what I could tell, gave Jane quite a severe talking-to. At any rate, Collin seemed terrified of it all and I don't think he's hardly said a word to Jane since—not that he's a very wordy boy to begin with. He asked if I was afraid of her, and I said I'm not. I'm often confused by her, but I don't fear her like I feared his father. At such a young age, I believe all violence appears equal to him, and he is probably waiting for the other proverbial shoe to drop and for Jane to start taking her anger out on him._

_ If you are wondering why I am not staying in the same house as Collin, I think technically it is because there is not much room in Jane and Maura's home. But under the guise of giving me more independence and weaning Collin off of my presence, Jane suggested I find a place at the local boarding house. It has suited me well so far, I think, and it is hopefully doing the job of allowing Collin to see his life will not be over if I am not in it hour by hour._

_ I still look forward to the day when I am able to marry you, my dearest Peter. We have been parted for far too long, and our reunion cannot come quickly enough. Please send for me soon. I still miss you as dearly as I did at the start._

_Ever yours, Cailin _

As Kay walked towards the postmaster's office with her letter in hand, she passed by Maura, who was not looking particularly cheerful. Kay had never been very good at impromptu social situations where sympathy was required, and she briefly considered keeping to herself until Maura actually caught her eye.

"Hello," Kay said. "Where are you off to, Dr. Isles?"

"I have some business to attend to in Green Forge. I don't suppose I could interest you in coming along? Their general store houses quite an impressively sundry inventory."

"Oh, that's all right, thank you. After I post this letter, I am due at your house to spend some time with Collin. He claims to have taught Magnum a new trick."

Maura was able to smile at that. "I'm so glad Collin's gotten attached to him. He was quite afraid of him at the start, I think."

Kay shrugged. "Things change."

* * *

In Green Forge, Lydia was less than a month away from delivering her child. According to Belle, the owner of the bordello who had given Lydia a room, she was vomiting incessantly and rarely left her bed. Tommy had not come by in weeks, and Lydia had all but given up on him by this point. Belle spoke with her daily, but she was rarely responsive. Maura—or Dr. Isles, as Lydia only ever called her—was the sole person she seemed comfortable opening up to. Maura's examinations tended to take much longer than she needed, because Lydia always took hold of one of her hands as soon as she got by the bed.

"I'm sorry," Lydia wheezed as Maura started one-handedly putting away her many instruments.

"What for?" Maura asked. "Green Forge isn't so terribly out of my way."

"I mean for this," Lydia explained, giving Maura's hand a weak squeeze. "I'm sure you could get outta here much faster if I let ya use both your hands."

Maura brought her other hand over, clasping Lydia's between her own. "It's all right," she said as gently and sincerely as she could. "I don't mind."

Lydia was tearing up. She held Maura's gaze as long as she could without breaking down, and looked away with a weak laugh. "You don't mind," she said. "That's one of the kindest things anyone's ever said to me."

The implication of those words—of Lydia's loveless life—pinched Maura's heart with all the subtlety of a surgeon's scalpel. Gripping Lydia's hand tightly, she said, "Look at me. Hear what I say, and believe it. Tommy is a fool for up and leaving you like this. He is a fool. You are smart, you are sweet, you are important."

Lydia glanced around the room, positive Maura had to be addressing someone else. "Me?" When Maura nodded, she laughed hollowly and said, "I ain't those things, Dr. Isles. I especially ain't smart. All a body has to do to see that is take a look at where I am. You? You're smart. Not me, not someone like me."

"You know the companion I've mentioned to you, Lydia?"

"Jane?"

"Yes, Jane. We come from two very different paths in life. I grew up in circumstances that allowed many things to be handed to me on a silver platter. Things Jane had to literally fight for her whole life. I have been exposed to a myriad of situations and cultural experiences that she has never known, and she has likewise been privy to events and occasions and characters that I have yet to catch up on. She once said that she believed we were both naïve, just in different ways. I think the same thing could be said for intelligences of two people. You and I are both smart, Lydia, just in different ways."

There was a long silence as Lydia stared at her incredulously. A lifetime of being called worthless and stupid and lucky if she were ever to get a chance to travel past the limits of Green Forge. Years of latching onto men who said she was pretty, because that seemed to be all she had to offer. Falling so hard for Tommy Rizzoli because for once, he was a man who wanted to talk with her, spend real time with her. How could a smart woman have lost someone like that?

"I-I don't understand you, Dr. Isles," she said breathlessly.

Maura leaned closer, rubbing her thumb along the back of Lydia's hand. "Belle showed me some of the drawings you did."

"Those sketches? It's just to pass the time while I sit here. When the window's open, it's a pretty nice view."

"Your attention to detail is exquisite. It's evidence of a very high intelligence quotient. She also mentioned that now and then, you've asked her to read to you. Dickens, Dickinson, Hawthorne!"

Lydia smiled a little. "I don't always understand 'em, but I think I get the gist." Her smile faded and she slumped down slightly in the bed. "I told Belle my eyes ain't so good in the lamplight, but I think she knows I only say that 'cause I can't read. That's why I have her read 'em to me when she ain't too busy."

"My Jane could hardly read when I first met her," Maura said. "And her writing left much to be desired, as well. But she's been studying diligently now she's had the chance, and she's become almost a regular Shakespeare!"

She laughed, and Lydia weakly joined her. "Gee, Dr. Isles. If I could …if I make it through having the baby, I'd sure turn my life around. Could you help me?"

"I promise to do all I can, Lydia."

As always, the sincerity in her tone was impossible to miss. Lydia needed a moment to collect herself before making her next request. It was something that had been on her mind for a couple of months now, ever since Dr. Isles had started to check on her regularly. If a woman like this could make someone like her feel, even for a moment, as if she were smart and maybe worth something, what miracles could she perform in the role of a mother? How might she help shape a life that could otherwise grow up in shame, burdened by the circumstances of its birth and relationship status of its parents? That was easy. Just thinking of it brought tears to Lydia's eyes. She envied Jane for getting to be around someone like Dr. Isles all the time. In a way, it felt like what she had had with Tommy: he had once been attentive and sweet, also. But where he was still immature and given to flight when it was his fancy, Dr. Isles was steady. She was a rock in a bad storm—no; she was the first one out to rescue anyone who might have been caught up in the rising tide, and she did it not caring who you were or where you came from. What she saw was someone in need, and if she was equipped to help, she would.

"I'm thinkin' if I survive this, Tommy still ain't gonna come back," Lydia eventually said. "I'd have to raise him alone, and I don't have nothin'. I don't just mean no husband, I mean _nothin'_. I know you ain't married either, Dr. Isles, but I j-just—I know you'd do such a good job raising him if you'd take the chance. I know it maybe ain't my place to ask, but I figured I ain't got nothin' to lose, s-so—if you could, I um …I would r-really…"

Maura reached for Lydia's hand again, stroking it until it ceased to tremble. "Lydia," she said in as calm a voice as she could muster. "If circumstances are such that you do not survive childbirth, and Tommy cannot be found, you have my _word _that I will personally see to it that your child is raised up well. If it is your wish, I would be deeply honored to be given charge of your boy or girl, and promise to be the best steward I can for them."

"That's my wish," Lydia said, nodding and smiling. "And it may well be the smartest thing I've ever thought to ask."

* * *

When Maura finally got home that evening, she was glad to see Jane was already there. What threw her slightly was the fact that Jane was sitting in her porch chair not whittling wood or cleaning her gun, but with a needle and thread in hand. On her lap was a large, rectangular piece of blue fabric that Maura thought she recognized. She walked up the porch steps and greeted Jane, which led to Jane accidentally pricking herself.

"Collin's pillow," Jane said, giving her finger a shake before sucking the blood off it. "Magnum ruined the old cover, and I was tryin' to fix it."

"How's it coming along?" Maura asked, trying not to laugh as she settled next to Jane.

"It ain't," Jane grunted, holding the pillowcase hopefully out to Maura.

Maura obligingly took to the task, making quick work of the sewing with her surgeon's precision. "Where is Collin?"

"Round back," Jane sighed, leaning down in her chair and closing her eyes. "Playin' with the dogs. Maura… what're we gonna do with him? I mean, Kay ain't gonna stay here forever, you know that. She wants to move back to Boston and get married to that boy. What if Collin wants to go with her? What if that's what's best for him?"

"Jane, you know Kay believes he would be better off with us here. And we both agreed. Why are you having second thoughts?" She looked up from the needlework to see Jane's expression. Jane had averted her gaze, slumped even further in her seat as she kneaded her hands together. "Is it because of the way he saw you take apart Lyman Harris the other day?"

"I don't get it," Jane grunted, shifting in her seat. "You remember your friend Charlotte's boy, Jackson? In Boston? All he wanted to talk about was how many men I'd killed, and if I got to use my gun very often. He begged me to tell him stories about all the fights I'd gotten into and all the criminals I'd roughed up. I figured if we got a boy, he'd be like that. And Collin's never wanted to get into any of that. He sees me in one fight and he's afraid to even look at me. Jackson I had to tell—I had to tell him I don't go looking for fights, they find me. Now I feel as though I gotta justify what I do to Collin."

"Well, quite simply, you do," Maura said.

"Simple? Ain't nothin' simple about it. He oughtn't to be so squeamish about it."

"Jane," Maura said sharply, and that got Jane to look at her. "Think about what you're saying. The only father Collin ever knew was a morally backwards, violent, dangerous man."

"Rory Graham weren't so nice either, y'know."

"Not to his wife, that is true. But it's my understanding that Jackson never knew the degree of suffering his mother faced at Rory's hands. All he knew was that his father was an unpleasant character, and one who used his money and his position—not integrity or warmth—to gain people's attention. All suits and cigars and talking about things children can't possibly understand. Don't you see why any boy like Jackson would be absolutely _fascinated_ with you? You're lively, you spoke to him on his level, and instead of sitting around in an office all day, you ride the open plains and track down the west's most fearsome criminals!"

"So how come Collin can't appreciate that, too?" Jane asked. "He knows his father was no good, and that I catch people like—hell, I _caught _his father!"

"But he didn't see you do it. Your fight with Harris was a little extreme, Jane, you have to admit that."

"It was personal. I told you that," Jane said through her teeth.

"You told _me _that, yes. Have you tried speaking with Collin about it? I mean really tried?"

"I figured if he wanted to talk, he'd tell me," Jane said uncertainly. "I didn't wanna push him into anything if he wasn't ready to talk."

"Jane, you are the adult here. I've tried to speak to Collin on your behalf already, but you need to try now. If you wait much longer, you might miss your window of opportunity. He needs to hear you explain your job, just like Jackson had to hear you say you don't make a sport out of killing people—even the bad ones." When Jane made no move to get up or even respond, Maura lowered her voice and went on: "This is what families do, Jane. You're not the person you were. You don't avoid conflict like this anymore, by running off or hoping it will go away."

"Look what kind of rotten example _that _set," Jane muttered. "Tommy ain't no place to be found."

"Don't blame yourself for Tommy's choices, Jane. Although while we're on the subject…"

"What?"

Maura sighed softly and stopped pretending that she was focusing at all on the sewing. "I just came from a visit with Lydia."

"How's she doin'?" Jane asked seriously. Maura's frown deepened, and Jane sat up straight again. "You still think she's gonna…?" Maura nodded. "Dammit," Jane grunted, pounding her fist into her open hand. "I _gotta _find Tommy. I don't care how much of a louse he is—if that baby loses its mother, he needs to have a father. _Someone_ around."

Maura reached over and touched Jane's arm. "Lydia asked if I would take it."

Jane gaped at her. "Sh-she _what?_"

"She asked if I would take care of her child if we couldn't find Tommy. And I told her I would. Was that the wrong thing to do?"

"No, no! No, Maura, I think it was real good of you to do that. I'm kinda surprised she asked ya, but I guess she ain't ever been around many people as wise as you are. Who'd be better to help out her child than you?"

"Us," Maura answered, and Jane finally managed a smile. "Jane, I want finding Tommy to be your priority. But there's something else I've been thinking about, even before Lydia formally asked me to be the baby's caretaker. She hasn't said it outright, but I don't think she's very happy about the prospect of her child being born in a brothel."

"Don't really blame her."

"If you could…if you have any connections in Green Forge or Wohaw Springs—any place you think an unmarried woman would be allowed in to give birth—I know it's a strange request, but…"

"It would make you happy?" Jane prompted her. Maura nodded. Jane reached for her hand and kissed it. "Then I'll go to the moon and back to make it so. And on that note…" She heaved herself up out of her chair, stretching. "I guess I'd better go talk to Collin."

With Maura's blessing, she headed warily around to the backyard of the house. Jo Friday was lying in a choice spot of grass, silently watching as Collin threw a stick for Magnum to catch. He couldn't throw very far, but Magnum would always dash off like a speed demon regardless, often turning so quickly that he skidded a bit, which delighted Collin to no end. When Magnum caught sight of Jane, he offered a booming bark of greeting before dashing back to his new playmate. Collin's smile dropped quickly, and with the stick in hand, he walked back to what he considered the safety of the porch. Jane stayed back, waiting for Collin to throw the stick again, which he eventually did. Magnum shot after it, and Jane stepped closer. Jo got up and followed her right to the porch, where Jane sat herself on the opposite end of the stairs as Collin. She reached over to bring Jo Friday on her lap, and while she could tell Collin was casting furtive glances at her, she kept her attention focused on Jo.

"You ain't said much to me these last few days, Collin," she finally said. Magnum brought the stick back, and Collin could barely throw it past the stairs this time around. "Did I do something to upset ya?"

"Maura says you're a hero."

It was odd, the way he said it. Like he still couldn't quite find the logic in Maura's word choice, or as if the sentence he'd just said had come out of him in a language he didn't understand.

"I don't really see myself as a hero," Jane said, scratching behind Jo's ears. "I do what I do because all my life's training has led me not to think of myself, but to think of the other guy. Help where I can. See that justice is served wherever I can."

His tone became honestly curious: "Is hurting people the only way you can make them listen?"

"No, Collin, it ain't. And more often than I not, I do what I can with my words. I don't like usin' my fists, contrary to how it may've seemed the other day."

"Do you like to hurt people?"

"Hell, Collin, I hate it. You know who that man was you saw me fight the other day?" She looked over and saw him shake his head. "He was a real bad man. We were in a building where my partner's wife works, and we wanted to take this guy Harris in for a crime he'd committed. Not only did he resist arrest, he attacked my partner. And then he said he was gonna …he was gonna do somethin' real bad to my partner's wife."

"He wanted to kill her?"

Jane grimaced. "Yeah, something like that," she muttered, deciding not to go into full detail. "And he said he wanted to do the same to Maura."

"How come?"

"He had no respect for the law, that's how come. He took out a tool and he knocked out my partner with it. Tried to throw a chair at me, I dodged it, and he came at me. I did what I could to keep myself safe. That's what we call self-defense, Collin, understand?"

"Defense…"

"It means protect. Some men hurt or kill other men because they like to do it. Because they think it's in their blood, or it's justified somehow. That ain't what I do. Taking a life ain't ever easy, and giving a beating ain't so fun. If I wanna scare somebody, it'll be someone who's tried to outrun the law. It won't ever be an innocent man or woman, and God knows it won't ever be a child. Not if I can help it."

Collin was turning the stick over in his hands. Magnum had finally sat down, but his tail still wagged in anticipation of getting to fetch again. Jane moved incrementally closer down the porch, and Collin did not shrink away. Encouraged, she moved down a little more.

"Collin? It about breaks my heart to think I scared ya. I want you to know that I… well, I've already told ya this, but your sister Maura is the most important person in my life. Keeping her safe and letting her know she is loved are my top twin priorities every day. You are her family, which means I consider you my family, as well. So with that comes my same promise of protection and—and love, if you'll let me give it to ya."

She had not expected emotion to lodge itself somewhere in her throat, but it was so tight that towards the end it had become hard to speak. Collin looked at her long and hard, shocked to see tears welling in the eyes of a person who seemed so strong and so capable. Maybe it was okay to cry. Maybe even the toughest people could open up now and then.

A minute or two of silence might have passed before Collin mutely held the stick out to Jane. She grinned and took it, getting to her feet. Collin and Magnum stood up as well, and Jane reared back. Magnum had already started to run by the time Jane had thrown the stick with all her strength, sending it sailing through the air so high and so far that Collin briefly lost sight of it. As Magnum continued to run, Jane looked down at Collin.

For the first time since he'd arrived in Hollow Creek, he smiled at her.

* * *

**A/N**: So I forgot Garrett had a brother named Adam. Whoops! Kay is **not **engaged to a Fairfield. I'm changing the name to avoid confusion, haha.


	48. Curioser and Curioser

It had been inevitable that Collin and Kay would be meet Angela at some point, and Maura had insisted that Jane do it early on to avoid any awkwardness about prolonging it. Introductions had been made while Kay was still living in Jane and Maura's house, but they were formal at best. Jane was wary of Angela getting too attached in case Kay _did _manage to take off without word one day, or if Collin decided he wanted to move back to Boston with her. Jane had had her over, explained that Collin and Maura were half-siblings, and that they were keeping an eye on the kids for a while.

"_And how long is a while?" Angela had asked, when Jane escorted her back home._

"_Not sure yet."_

"_That boy's father is dead, you say?"_

_They had never gotten around to explaining that Maura's birth father was a wanted murderer, and that Jane had been the one to take him out. "Yeah, he ain't with us anymore. Kay might be gettin' married soon, and if that's the case, Collin's gonna have to choose if he wants to go with her or if he wants to stay with us."_

"_You want to send a kid along with some honeymooners?"_

"_Well, we could send him along later…"_

"_You don't want to, though."_

"_What?"_

"_I can hear it in your voice, Jane. You want to keep that boy." _

_Jane set her jaw. "I feel an obligation to him as he's part of Maura's family." _

Angela wasn't fooled. She could recognize snippets of maternal behavior that came out of Jane here and there, some of them more obvious than others. Her voice became gentler when she spoke to Collin, and her language was noticeably less coarse. Sometimes Angela would walk up to the house and see Jane whittling a slingshot or some other toy clearly designed for a child (she would always quickly try to hide her work, though; she hadn't even shown most of them to Collin yet).

Once Collin had really warmed up to Jane, the changes became increasingly apparent. Her eyes lit up every time he looked at her, and she smiled most every time she saw him. Angela thought about how everyone used to joke that Jane would never be fit for marriage, much less motherhood—why would a woman like her ever want children, and how could they be anything but traumatized with a loud daredevil like her for a mother? She'd get sloppy, she'd be cross, she'd never be patient or gentle or caring like a woman ought to be with her children.

True Jane worked like a dog and she wasn't always very patient, but there was no doubt in Angela's mind that her daughter had grown to love that little boy. Occasionally Maura would bring him down to the saloon to meet Jane for lunch, and when she wasn't taking the time to converse with them herself, Angela would always watch the three of them and feel her heart swell. Maura was a bit of a busybody, always making sure that Collin had a napkin or kerchief tucked into his shirt collar, that he was sitting straight and being polite. Jane would inadvertently be setting the opposite example, jokingly telling Maura off for being too prissy with the boy. Collin didn't talk much himself, but he seemed to enjoy watching Jane and Maura interact with each other, and he was becoming increasingly comfortable around Angela as well.

One afternoon, just before they left, Angela started up the phonograph Maura had donated to the saloon. The record contained a waltz, and with only three other men in the establishment, Maura stood up and asked Collin if he would dance with her. He glanced nervously at the saloon's other patrons, but they all seemed very invested in their own conversation, paying no attention whatsoever to Rizzoli or Isles, and certainly not to him.

It took only a bit more of Maura's encouraging smiles and beckoning for Collin to slide out of his seat and take her hand. She gently placed his other hand on her hip, and slowly started to move around.

"Wow! That boy's got courage!" Jane laughed, looking on with Angela.

"I dunno what I'm doing," he said nervously, getting a little dizzy as he tried to concentrate on his feet.

"Look up at me, dear," Maura gently prompted him. "That'll keep you focused."

But it didn't seem to help; in fact, just the opposite. He lost his footing as they twirled around, and when Maura tried to help him up, he rejected her hand and got to his feet on his own. "I only saw Kay dance once," he said. "I don't know how to do it."

"Here, little man," Jane said, getting up from her chair. "Let me show you how it's done." With a dramatic flair, she pulled on her gloves as if they were something more extravagant than raw hide. Her boots thudded purposefully across the floor as she strutted towards Maura, removing her hat and bowing in one swift motion. "Pardon me, Miss. I couldn't help but notice your striking figure from where I was sitting, and wondered if maybe you'd indulge me in a dance?"

"Why, my good man," Maura laughed, putting a hand to her heart and pretending to blush. Colin giggled. "I'd be delighted!"

Beaming, Jane smoothly stepped forward, wrapping her arm around the small of Maura's back and taking her hand. She started to lead, and Maura had to admit to being a little surprised at how much their intermittent practicing seemed to have paid off: this was the first time they had danced where Jane did not seem to make a single error. Given the limited space they had to move around freely, Jane navigated effortlessly through the small sea of tables and chairs, never losing her footing or accidentally twirling Maura into any furniture. There were a couple of close calls that she dramatized for Collin's amusement, and for Maura's as well.

She loved getting to hold Maura close like this, out in the open. Getting to move around with her and have her all to herself, even if other people were watching. Nothing did her heart more good than to see Maura smiling at her like that—the smile that was truly reserved only for one person.

"I think I can try now!" Collin volunteered, when Jane and Maura came close.

"Oh, I don't think so, kid," Jane teased him, hugging Maura close to her. "You missed your chance!"

"Please? I want to try!"

Angela stepped around from behind the bar and placed a hand on Collin's shoulder. He flinched and turned around, and Angela quickly withdrew her touch. He didn't back away, however, and Angela asked him, "May _I _dance with you, Mr…?"

She looked over at Maura, realizing she didn't have a last name for the boy. Jane and Collin also looked at her, and Maura appeared lost. Calling him Doyle would bring up memories she did not particularly want to focus on, but she wondered if that was the name he had been raised with. Considering his fear of his father, though, she couldn't imagine he'd like a lifetime of association with it, either. Maybe he'd gone by his mother's maiden name? What had that been… Martin?

But he smiled at Jane and said, "Rizzoli!"

Or, he tried to. Maura was currently attempting to help him through a speech impediment that kept him from being able to properly pronounce most 'r' sounds, which she had noticed the first time he said "Deputy Rizzoli" and it came out sounding more like "Wizzoli."

"Mr. Rizzoli," Angela said, curtsying and trying her best not to get emotional. "Dance?"

Collin bowed dramatically, mimicking what he had seen Jane do earlier. "I'd love to!"

As Jane and Maura continued to glide about, Collin tromped around the saloon with Angela barely clinging on, both of them laughing. The three men who were still inside scowled at the sounds of merrymaking and leaned in closer to talk, and they got their wish for quiet when the song on the record came to an end.

To finish it off, Jane sank onto one knee and kissed Maura's hand. Collin likewise knelt down and quickly pressed his lips to the back of Angela's hand.

"What a charming little gentleman!" Angela laughed as Collin stood back up. It was more than evident that the praise delighted him.

"Bet you never thought you'd see a Rizzoli boy you could call that!" Jane laughed.

"Frankie's always been a good one," Angela pointed out.

She and Jane shared a look, and Angela turned away, suddenly emotional. This was a frequent occurrence recently: every time there was a possibility Tommy might come up in the conversation, Angela got quiet and waited for someone to change the subject. Whenever this happened, Jane couldn't help feeling incredibly guilty on two counts: firstly, she had a good idea why Tommy had run off; secondly, she couldn't help wondering if this was how Angela had reacted to the mention or almost-mention of _her_, Jane's, name whenever Jane had taken off. Even if Jane had been in contact with her family during her trips, Angela really had been left in the dark most of the time about why Jane was gone. It was the same with Tommy.

Jane said she had to be getting back to work, and Maura asked Collin if he'd like to accompany her on some house calls. He asked instead to spend some time with Kay, and the two of them whiled away a few hours by playing chess, hunting for rabbits near Melody's garden, and tinkering with the piano at Angela's saloon. Maura came back around in the evening, and the three of them shared dinner at the boarding house before Maura had to drop by Adelaide's for a brief appointment.

The sun was starting to set by the time Jane made it by the boarding house to pick up Collin. As the two of them started walking down the road towards Jane and Maura's house, Kay stood on the porch and watched them go. She had started doing this, watching them until they got out of sight, because Collin had asked her to at the start. It had calmed him to be able to look over his shoulder and see her there, knowing she was keeping an eye on him in case Jane or Maura tried to do something to him. It had been some time now since he'd asked her to do it, and even longer since he'd actually looked back to see if she was there.

A large stagecoach came rumbling down the road, and Jane shifted a little more to the left to get out of its way. She felt something brush her hand, and she shook her fingers a bit, still walking. The sensation came again almost immediately, and Jane looked down to see that Collin was reaching for her hand. When the realization struck her, she instantly grasped his hand. It was amazing how small it was, practically disappearing inside her own. His grip was very, very light, and Jane slowed her pace to be sure she didn't actually lose it.

When they got home, Collin was still holding her fast. Usually he made a beeline for the cellar, but once inside, he looked up expectantly at Jane.

"Tired?" she asked. He nodded. "Let's go."

She walked him downstairs, turning away to give him some privacy as he changed quickly into some striped pajamas Maura had asked Adelaide to make for him. He cleared his throat when he was finished, and Jane turned around and chuckled as he got into his makeshift boat-turned-bed. She knelt next to it, pulling the blanket over him once he'd gotten settled in. He took it from her and tucked it around himself, and Jane rested her arms near the bow.

"Collin?"

"Yeah?"

"What made you have Angela call you Mr. Rizzoli?"

He frowned lightly, as though wondering why Jane would want to bother knowing the answer to such a question. "I wanted to."

"How come? Ain't your name Martin?"

If he could've while lying down, he'd have shrugged. "Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Everybody just calls me Collin. Nobody ever called me 'mister.' I guess Martin was my mother's name, but my father's name's Doyle, so I don't… I don't know which is my name."

"How come you didn't say Isles?"

"I like your name better. It's more fun to say."

Jane smiled at that, and Collin grinned back. "We gotta work on how you say it."

"I know, that's what Maura says."

"You gotta get that 'r' in there. Can you say that? R."

"R."

Jane contorted her face into a comical grimace, growling like a pirate from _Treasure Island _might have: "_Arrrrr!_"

Collin laughed and did his best to copy her expression. "Arrr!"

They said it back and forth a few more times until Collin was laughing too hard to make any other sound, and Jane jokingly warned him, "You keep growlin' like that and the dogs are gonna mistake you for one of their own!"

"Arrrr! Arf! Rrrrizzoli!"

"There you go!" Jane laughed, thumping his arm affectionately. "Atta boy!" She had come very close to saying "that's my boy," only barely managing to refrain herself out of concern that Collin wouldn't be comfortable with such a term yet.

Once his giggling had finally subsided, he spent a few moments just silently looking Jane over. Meanwhile she was marveling over the quickness with which she had grown to love this child, as if he had lived all six of his years with her already instead of just barely six weeks. This was something she had never had before, the charge of a life that was so young and yet so jaded, so guarded. The act of gaining his trust had been painstaking at times, but the payoff was thus far proving to be more than worth it.

"Jane?"

"Hm?"

"How come you love my sister so much?"

Jane sighed softly, smiling down at him. "Draw yourself up a chair there, kid. That answer'll take a while."

"I'm in bed," he told her, looking and sounding nonplussed as he gestured to his blanket. "I can't draw up a chair. You can, though."

"Guess that's true," Jane chuckled, getting to her feet and pulling over the chair she used to work in before the cellar had become Collin's bedroom. "So why d'you want to know, Collin? Don't you believe I love her?"

"Sure I do! Maura says you're the law around here."

"Darn right I am, boy."

"So you must be smart. And if you're the law, you're always right."

Jane folded her arms and nodded solemnly. "You tell Maura that sometime, all right?" she said with a wink.

He didn't quite get the joke. "Well, um… if you're always right, you're right about my sister. About Maura. So I wanna know how come you love her, so I can be right, too."

"Don't you love Maura, Collin?"

They'd certainly spent enough time together, Jane thought. Maura included him in her schedule every day, often going out of her way to arrange it so she could drop him off with Kay, and pick him up as well. She fixed meals for him that Kay said he liked. She let him try playing her harp, an instrument so refined and precious to her that she hadn't even let Jane attempt plucking the strings.

"Sure, I like her," he said. "I liked my mother, too. But Kay said nobody around respected her, 'cause of things she'd done." He didn't quite know how to say it, but having children out of wedlock and pursuing a career over a husband hadn't helped Hope Martin's chances of breaking into esteemed society. His voice sounded small: "I just don't wanna be wrong again."

This time when Jane sighed, it came out heavy, as she was already feeling burdened with the task of trying to explain everything she felt for Maura and everything she felt Maura to be in language a young child could comprehend. She also wanted Maura's actions and her words to speak for themselves, for Collin to be able to see on his own that in spite of going against societal grain, Maura was the best person he could ever have hoped to raise him.

"What do I love about your sister?" she murmured. He nodded at her, looking curious. "You seen the night sky around here, Collin?"

"Yes."

"Got a lot of stars in it, huh?"

"Uh-huh."

"Know how many stars there are?" His countenance clearly expressed that it would be crazy for anyone to be expected to try and count a number so high, and Jane chuckled. "You seen fields of grass?"

"Yes…"

"How many blades of grass in a field?"

"I don't know!"

"Take every blade of grass the world over, and every star in the sky. Multiply it a hundred times over, and that still won't even _touch _the number of reasons why I love your sister."

Collin made a fist and started un-tucking the fingers of one hand, as if he honestly wanted to try counting that high. He made it through four fingers before giving up and looking at Jane in confused astonishment. "That's a lot," he finally said.

She chuckled again. "Sure is, boy. There's lots of wonderful things about your sister. I reckon I could tell you a new one every night for the rest of your life, and we'd both eventually die before I ever reached the end of my list."

"So start now. You can even say more than one if you want!"

"Let's start with one," Jane said. "Something I love about your sister is that… she is curious."

"What's that mean?"

"It means she likes to learn, likes to ask questions. Some people don't think ladies oughtta be curious."

"How come?"

"They think gettin' educated is a man's job. But Maura didn't care. She didn't just wanna _learn_, she wanted to learn the ways of life. That's how come she's such a fine doctor. She's so good at what she does, people from all over the area—even outside our county!—want medical advice from Dr. Maura Isles. She is _that _adored and respected. Know somethin' else about curious people, Collin? They don't tend to let other folks tell 'em what to do. They follow their hearts, wherever that leads 'em. They don't ever get boring. They keep lookin' for ways to grow and to interest the people around 'em, 'cause they don't ever tire of learning or trying new things. Wouldn't you love to be like that?"

"Do curious people get scared?"

Jane lowered her voice slightly. "Sure they do, sometimes. Anybody who's got any wits is liable to get scared from time to time. But a truly curious person don't let nothin' scare 'em away for _too _long. What they don't got is fear of the unknown. Maura was curious about life out in the west, so out she came, all the way from Boston."

"Kay said she moved here on account of it's where her fiancé lived."

"All right, I'll grant ya that one. But she stayed on account of her curiosity. Her thirst for more. Every day. She don't ever stop. You know a while ago, people used to be sorta scared of me, Collin. Didn't know what to make of me, and I was sort of defensive all the time. But Maura was the first person in a while who cared enough to ask me questions. She was curious about what made me the way I was, why I said the things I did and dressed the way I did, and all that. Her curiosity wasn't rude, and it wasn't as though she was tryin' to steer me in some other direction, tryin' to correct my behavior. Her interest in me just …it _made _me want to do better, be a better person. I thinks she has that effect on most people who have the honor of meeting her."

"She's nice," Collin said lightly. "You're tough. But you're nice, too."

She reached for his hand, and he took it. "Thank you, Collin."

He smiled at her, then gently pulled his hand back. "Good night," he whispered, shutting his eyes and burying his face into his pillow.

Jane waited a minute or so before she murmured, "Night, son."

She stayed down there a short while longer, picking up the copy of _Treasure Island _she kept in the cellar. When she had worked this room more extensively in the past, she'd take a break now and then to read. _Treasure Island _was the first novel she had ever followed through start to finish, though it was Maura who had read it out loud to her. She flipped through a few pages, wondering if it was a story Collin would be interested in hearing sometime. Already she could envision acting out some passages as Maura read them, and unconsciously she started to smile.

Magnum came thumping down the stairs, and Jane shushed him before he could make any real noise. He soon took his regular nightly spot by Collin's bed, lying down but alert. Footsteps could be heard overhead, and Jane got to her feet before Magnum could, though they both knew the sounds were coming from Maura. The dog stayed in the cellar as Jane quickly, silently scaled the steps.

Maura turned to look at her once Jane appeared at the cellar doorway, quickly shutting the door behind her. The doctor looked very tired, but happy to see her deputy as Jane walked towards her. Jane pulled her into a quick kiss before embracing her warmly.

"Sweetheart, I love you," she whispered. "I don't know that I've said it lately, not in words, and I just wanna tell you. I love you so, so much."

Maura couldn't really guess what had brought this on, but the reasons didn't matter as she fully returned the embrace. "And I love you, Calamity Jane."

"C'mere," Jane muttered, bending her knees a bit and grabbing hold of the back of Maura's legs. In her split skirt, it was easy for Maura to wrap her legs around Jane's waist as Jane hoisted her upwards, kissing her again, more slowly this time. Maura curled the fingers of one hand into the hair closest to Jane's neck. She hummed happily at the sound and feeling of Jane's steady breathing, a key signification of the tender adoration behind this kiss.

"I've been thinking," Maura whispered between kisses.

"Mm? What about, Dr. Isles?"

"Maybe soon we could ask if Collin would like to spend a night or two with Kay …or maybe even at Angela's tavern, so we could…"

Jane groaned and tightened her hold on Maura, the rest of the doctor's words dissolving with another, slightly more aggressive kiss. It was true that since Collin and Kay had come abruptly into their lives, they hadn't had much of a chance to fully make love. There were stolen moments in the evenings, and the occasional quick interaction during the day when they both happened to be home and Collin was with Kay. Even if they'd felt up to doing much more at night than kiss, there was always the concern that Maura might… well, be as loud as usual.

"How about this?" Jane murmured, hitching Maura a little higher and starting to walk towards their bedroom. "You try your hand at being quiet." The best Maura could do was nod as Jane deposited her on the edge of the bed and started to undress. "Take those clothes off," she whispered, sending a small thrill down Maura's spine. There was something equally thrilling about just being watched as she removed her layers under Jane's eye—Jane had just gotten down to her jeans when she decided to stop and watch.

When Maura was completely undressed, Jane told her to lie back and then settled comfortably over her. She dipped her head for a kiss, grinning as she felt Maura's arms wrap around her neck, pulling her closer. Her breath caught when Jane sank downwards, her hands and lips traversing Maura's body. She soon shifted back up, intent on stifling Maura's moans with any number of increasingly sloppy yet purposeful kisses. As if to make up for her muted responses, Maura gripped Jane more tightly than usual, starting to push and pull with amplified frenzy even while their general pace remained slow.

"Easy there, tiger," Jane quipped.

All in all, Maura was not easily sated that night, and she kept Jane up and going for some time.

"You are so incredible," Maura whispered when they had finally stopped for the night, one of her legs resting between Jane's.

Jane smiled, trailing her hand down Maura's shoulder. "Right back at ya, doc."

She kissed her, and for a few more minutes they were lost in that romantic haze, time ceasing to exist in the calm quiet. Eventually Jane snaked one arm under Maura's shoulder, kissing her forehead and hugging her close.

"You know," she said quietly. "I used to mourn a lot about how I couldn't help you create a new life, Maura. How that wasn't something we could do together, like most married couples can. Hell, like most _un-_married couple can. But I realized something today when I was talkin' to Collin. Never really occurred to me in this way before."

"What was that, Jane?"

"You _did _help me make a new life. Mine. What I've got with you, it's somethin' I never thought I'd have. I want every friend I ever made to meet you and know you and love you like I do. My life was fun, but sometimes it damn near drove me crazy. Then you came waltzing in and you brought back everything that was ever important to me in the world …and you brought in other wonderful, important things. Things that were—are—new to me. That's a blessing I never thought I'd have, and I owe it all to you."

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks to everyone who's still reading- I'd really love to know what you think.

Still a few chapters here to wrap things up, and then an epilogue. :)


	49. Consider the Lilies

The next morning was one of those mornings where it just seemed like it would be impossible to get out of bed.

Jane had neglected to close the curtain in their room last night as she usually did, and sunlight started streaming into their room at an hour much earlier than Maura especially would have liked. Jane's eyes drifted open lazily, and she tried to remember the dream she'd just been having. It'd been a good one and would've been nice to return to, but a few moments later she figured that no dream world could really hold a candle to reality, where she was lying undressed in bed with Maura Isles' naked form draped over her. Jane sighed deeply in satisfaction. She was surrounded by so much warmth. The pillow beneath her head, the blanket over most of her body, and Maura snuggled into her side. How could she possibly get up and go to work when literally everything she touched was so warm and soft and inviting?

She let her eyes close again as she gently ran her fingers down Maura's back. After Jane had done this a few times—not even meaning to, just unable to resist—Maura stirred slightly.

"Mm?"

Jane felt a little bad for waking her up, but couldn't fight a smile as she let her hand slide down to the small of Maura's back, pressing with a little more pressure. Maura responded to the touch by lazily sliding one leg between Jane's, shifting upwards enough to let her lips touch Jane's neck. Jane groaned lightly, bringing her other hand over to rest on Maura's hip as Maura started to slowly grind against her.

"Mmph," Jane sighed. "Already?"

"I had a dream about you," Maura whispered, her voice sounding tired.

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

Maura slowed her movements, and let her head fall back onto the pillow as Jane turned her slightly, gently kissing her neck and moving down to her shoulder. Both hands stayed on Maura, one at her hip and the other curled under her shoulder blade, slightly possessive as Jane spread Maura's legs apart. Jane loved being in this world, this atmosphere that was half-awake but half-asleep; tired, yet blazingly alive in the most important places. Each place Maura managed to kiss set off a miniature explosive, kegs of dynamite going off with each touch. And she just tasted so good. So, _so _good.

"I love you," Jane whispered. "I love getting to have this with you."

The response was a murmur, spoken over Jane's collar as Maura kissed it: "I love you too, Jane. I want you to know that I consider this…" She moved up higher, kissing Jane's jawline. "Such a privilege." She pressed her mouth to Jane's, tasting her lips, dipping her tongue inside briefly before pulling back a little. "It is my aim to never take anything you do for granted."

"You can, you know," Jane said, as Maura gently brushed some strands of hair away from her forehead. "It should be taken for granted that I'm gonna be good to ya, Maura. If I ever get outta line, don't you hesitate, all right?"

"Oh, I don't," Maura said with a smirk.

"C'mere," Jane husked, grinning and pulling Maura on top of her.

Maura had planned on saying more, but lying like this with Jane beneath her made it difficult to remember what she'd meant to say. This was a sensation she hoped would be true for the rest of her life; that she would never tire of being the one person who could love Jane as intimately as this. She felt strangely emboldened and comforted in being positive that Jane would certainly be the only one who would ever be with her in this way.

There was so much beauty to her in the fact that none of this was for show, none of it was forced. Neither of them had to play a part: Maura didn't have to act demure and deflect; she could express quite plainly what she wanted and Jane gave it to her. She didn't have to blush like a schoolgirl or act ashamed because of how exposed she was, because of what she did to Jane and let Jane do to her.

In the quiet afterwards, Maura would subconsciously check her heartbeat against Jane's. Right now she rested her head against Jane's collar, nestled into her as Jane hummed and gently rubbed her back. She pressed a gentle kiss to Jane's shoulder, and Jane gripped her a little tighter.

"There's only one thing I wish, Jane."

"What's that, honey?"

Maura sighed and pulled the blanket up to her chest. "I wish there was just a way to make people in town know that you're mine, and that I'm proud to belong to you."

Jane chuckled, and Maura looked curiously up at her. "Sweetheart," she whispered, kissing Maura's forehead. "I'm pretty sure everyone in the territory knows I answer to no one but you." Maura just sighed again, resting her head on Jane's shoulder. Jane rubbed comforting circles on her back, and whispered, "I wanna tell you about this dream I had last night."

"What happened?"

It took Jane a moment to answer. "Our fathers were in it. I know it was your father 'cause of that portrait you've got in your study, but I also just knew it was him. I knew it was the original Dr. Isles. He and my Pop were standing on the second floor balcony of Angela's tavern, which …I guess don't actually exist, but it did in my dream. They were sharing a glass of port, and smoking some of my father's cigars, and just lookin' down at the town. You were across the street with Collin; you and Kay were fussing over his shirt collar or something, and your father looked at me—I was standing in the doorway, I couldn't go farther than that—and he said, 'why aren't you down there, Calamity Jane?' And my Pop said, 'Yeah, honey, you oughtta get over there. They're waiting for you.' I said I knew that. I turned to go and your father said to mine, 'Gosh, Tom. Wish we could be down there.'"

Maura sniffed and left a kiss on Jane's shoulder. "Oh, Jane."

"So I went down, and I walked over to you all. When I turned and tried to look back up at 'em, I couldn't see 'em anymore. Our fathers. I got Collin up on my shoulders and asked if he saw anybody up on the balcony. And he said no, at first. But then he got all excited and said he could see his mother. He waved and waved, and I asked him if he wanted me to take him up there to see her. He asked Kay what she thought, and she just shrugged at him."

There was an unintentional pause for dramatic effect, and Maura pressed her, "So what did he do?"

"Well, he leaned over—still on my shoulders, see—and grabbed you around the neck to kiss your forehead. He said, 'Thanks, Jane. I know my mother loves me, but I think I'll stay right here.' And …that's all I remember. That may have been the whole thing."

"I never remember my dreams," Maura said ruefully.

"I usually don't, either. That one really stuck though, I guess. Maybe I oughtta write it down before I forget."

Maura pulled her into a quick kiss. "I would fully approve of that."

And so they fell into their relatively new morning routine: Jane would borrow Maura's study to write for a few minutes, while Maura went to see that Collin was awake. Maura did not have Jane's natural flair for interacting with children, and so—despite her softness and general approachability—it had taken a bit longer for Collin to warm up to her as much as he had Jane. He'd never disliked her, he just hadn't been particularly close to her. But he was now able to appreciate that she wasn't just a person who fed and clothed him out of obligation or duty; he could sense her love for him. It was almost as obvious as Jane's love for Maura.

She or Jane (today, Maura) would fix some sort of breakfast, and Collin would eat with perfect table manners which defied the slightly sloppy way he liked to dress. (At least Maura had encouraged his manners well in _one _regard, Jane would say.) Jane was typically off first, and Collin would either accompany Maura on her home calls, or she would drop him off at Kay's. At Jane's recommendation, Maura would always remember to tell Collin some sort of variation of the words she'd wished Constance would have said to her every time she left:

_"I love you. I'll be back for you soon. I'll miss you today."_

After serving up plates for Collin and Maura, Jane had been about to sit down herself when a knock sounded at the door. She opened it, and was a little surprised to see Korsak and Frost both standing there so early.

"Can I help you gentlemen with something?" she asked.

"Busy, deputy?"

"I was just about to sit and have some breakfast with my family, here."

"Just had a question for you, that's all," Korsak said. Nodding towards Green Forge, he said, "Know that mine down the way? Sheriff of Green Forge said he's been getting some pretty shady characters in town, all supposed to be working it."

"Working it? That thing's abandoned. Don't tell me someone says he found gold there?"

Frost shrugged. "Apparently so. The Sheriff here sent Frankie up to keep an eye on things over there, make sure we don't have a repeat of what happened in '77. Korsak figured we ought to have another pair of eyes and hands working there, though, at least until we get a full picture of the situation."

"Assignment's yours if you want it, deputy," Korsak said.

"Nah, Korsak. I think I better stay closer to home."

"It's…just down the road, Jane."

"I know, but I want…" She looked over her shoulder; Collin and Maura were both looking over at the door curiously. Jane lowered her voice and said, "I just want Collin to be able to reach me if he needs me. So it's okay, Frost, you go ahead and join Frankie. What can I do here, Sheriff?"

He was about to answer, but by that point, the three of them had noticed a carriage that was rumbling down the road from Green Forge. It was going recklessly fast, and Frost hurried to try and wave down the driver—a buxom redhead—to tell her to slow up. She saw him and yanked on the reins, managing to eventually bring the carriage to a stop right at Jane's house.

"Where can I find Dr. Isles?" she asked, sounding harried.

"In here," Jane said. She gestured to the house behind her, a little befuddled by why this woman might be looking for her. "This is her house. What's your business?"

Rather than answer, the woman practically jumped out of the carriage and ran into the house. Jane was right on her tail, wary of anyone she didn't know bolting into their house like this. As soon as the door was open and Maura caught sight of the woman, though, Jane felt reassured in at least being able to tell that Maura seemed to know her.

"Belle? What is it? Has—?"

"It's happening, Dr. Isles, it's happening!"

"What is it?" Collin piped up.

Rather than answer him, Maura looked over to Jane. "Lydia's baby."

"She still at the bordello?" Jane asked Belle. When the reply was a nod, Jane turned back to Maura and said, "I'm goin' with you. Sheriff, will ya take Collin back to town with ya? See if you can't find Kay."

"Wait, I wanna go," Collin said, looking excited.

Korsak patiently took him by the shoulders and said, "Son, trust me. You don't. We'll be here when you get back, Jane."

Maura ran to her study to grab a bag she'd prepared a long time ago for when this happened. She and Jane climbed up into Belle's carriage, and the three of them headed swiftly back for Green Forge. Up front with Maura, Belle nodded behind them and asked, "May I inquire as to who your friend is, here?"

"She's the baby's aunt."

Belle's expression hardened. "Tommy's sister, eh? Any idea where that brother of yours is, Miss Rizzoli?"

"Ain't got a blasted clue," Jane mumbled. "Rest assured, madam, I got that baby's best interests at heart."

"And Lydia's? I don't mind telling you ladies, I care for that girl a great deal. Known her since she was a kid. That's why I've been keeping her at my place; I'm the only one who'd take her in. If I could get my hands on Tommy Rizzoli, I'd just about wring his neck for going and leaving Lydia alone like this."

"I appreciate what you done, but Maura's too much of a lady to tell you this," Jane said, leaning forward. "Lydia don't want that child born in a bordello. I aim to fill in where my brother ought to be, and help take her someplace else, so her child can be born someplace respectable."

"Can't say I don't understand that," Belle said. "But I ain't so sure it's a good idea for Lydia to be moved at this time."

"Goodness, let's hurry and just see how she is when we get there," Maura said.

Once back in Green Forge, they nearly ran over two people (Maura shouted unheard apologies) but it at least got them back to the bordello in a timely manner. Jane leapt out of the carriage before it came to a total stop, and she barged into the complex without much more grace or manners. By the time Belle and Maura got inside, two trembling girls said a wild woman had just come in and demanded to know where Lydia's room was. Maura silently followed Belle down the hallway, and Lydia's door was ajar.

"False alarm," Jane muttered to them, looking thoroughly agitated.

"You need to calm down," Maura said sharply, pointing an accusatory finger at Jane while Belle went to Lydia's bedside.

"I _am _calm; it's my imagination that's hysterical!" Jane half-whispered. "Geez, Maura, I was afraid of what I was gonna find in here, what's going to happen—I—this is my nephew, or my niece, that's getting born here, and Tommy ain't nowhere to be found."

"_We're _here, Jane, and that is important in and of itself."

Lydia's voice came from the other side of the room, trembling as much as she was. "Oh, _you're _Jane?"

Maura gave Jane a withering look. "You didn't introduce yourself?"

Jane frowned, somewhat ashamed of how recklessly she had come crashing into the room (later figuring it was almost surprising she hadn't caused Lydia to go into labor right then and there). She removed her hat and turned on her heel, quickly moving to Lydia's bed and kneeling next to it.

"My name's Jane Rizzoli," she said quietly, taking Lydia's hand. Even though Maura had told Lydia that Jane was Tommy's sister, the familiar name caused her breathing to get even more erratic. "I want you to know how truly sorry I am that my idiot brother's gone and taken off. Maura and I are gonna do everything we can to get you through this, and we will love your baby no matter what happens."

"You're family," Lydia choked out. She pulled her hand from Jane's loose grasp, and trailed her knuckles lightly against Jane's cheek. Nodding to herself, she quietly repeated the statement.

"I'm sorry I ain't been here," Jane said sincerely. Her words were still a bit stilted, but she forced them out, anxious to make up for her absence while the baby had been coming to term. "If you feel up to bein' moved, Lydia, there's some place I'd really like to take ya to have the baby."

"Far away?"

"Not too. You ever been to Wohaw Springs?"

"I ain't ever left this town." Forgetting she'd already asked the question, she said, "Is it very far?"

"No, Lydia, it ain't too far."

"Jane, I'm not sure a carriage ride would be advisable at this point," Maura said quietly.

"We'll take it slow," Jane assured her. "And if it gets too bumpy, I'll take her out and carry her all the way."

Maura knelt down as well, placing her hand on Jane's back and whispering into her ear. "Where exactly are you thinking, Jane?"

Jane straightened up. "You'll see, Doc. Okay if we move her, Belle?"

"It really isn't up to me, I suppose. If Lydia wants to, and Dr. Isles says it's all right, then I don't see why I should have an issue with it."

Jane offered to carry her, but Lydia insisted on trying to walk out of the building. With Belle and Maura's assistance, she was able to do this much, and Belle offered Jane the use of her carriage. Belle told them to get out quick, not wanting a drawn-out goodbye. Considering how pale Lydia looked and how weak she appeared—how she had seemed so set on dying when this new life emerged from her—Belle did not expect to see her alive again. As Jane slowly drove off, Lydia turned around to look. They were far away enough that she couldn't see the tears in Belle's eyes, only the woman's hand as she waved. It was a gesture Lydia could only barely return.

As Jane drove, she asked Lydia every few moments if she was doing all right. Maura was doing her best to conduct helpful breathing exercises, trying to keep her calm. Jane felt a bit useless, and during a short silence, tried to come up with a conversation topic that might distract Lydia from the pain.

"Got any ideas for names for the baby?" she asked.

Lydia nodded, but looked too sick to answer. Maura replied instead: "We discussed that. If it's a girl, something flowery—Iris, Rose, Lily. If it's a boy, she'd said… she'd like to name him after Tommy. Thomas Jr, or TJ for short."

"We used to call Tommy that when he was a kid," Jane said, smiling a little. "Thomas was my father's name." She wasn't sure how she felt about naming a boy after the man who'd apparently run off on his mother, but she acknowledged that whether Lydia lived or not, the choice wasn't hers. If needs be, she could at least pretend to herself that he'd been named for his grandfather. "Which of the flowers you like best, Lydia?"

"Lily," she finally managed.

"Consider the lilies, how they grow: they toil not, they spin not," Maura recited quietly.

After twenty minutes or so, they reached the juncture between Wohaw Springs and Sparrow Lake. Moving as gingerly as possible, Jane picked up Lydia and took her out of the carriage, carrying her in the direction of the sprawling grass by the lake. Maura followed suit with her bag of instruments in hand and a blanket slung over her arm. She wondered what Jane was whispering to Lydia as she walked, unable to ascertain much beyond pain in Lydia's expression. Jane stopped in a semi-secluded area, a place she assured Maura did not see very much traffic. It overlooked much of the lake, offering a view more beautiful than anything Lydia had ever seen. The atmosphere was quiet and peaceful. Tasteful. Secluded.

"Lovely," she whispered.

It was the last word she ever spoke.

* * *

It was well past dark by the time Jane and Maura finally returned to Hollow Creek. Her heart jumped into her throat a bit to see Korsak sitting on the porch, waiting. He stood up when the borrowed carriage was pulled to a stop, and Jane hopped down to talk to him. For the time being, Maura remained in the carriage, attentively leaning over a bundle that Korsak couldn't quite make out.

"That's Tommy's baby," Jane said quietly, and Korsak's eyes widened. "He got a girl in a family way, and he up and ran after he couldn't figure a respectable way to stay put. Frankie and I—well, and Maura—are the only ones here who knew."

"How's the mother?" Korsak asked.

Jane took a deep breath, and Korsak could hear the tears in her voice when she said, "She's gone. Barely had a chance to hold her baby before she passed. I hope you don't mind, I—I was gonna stay and help …with her body, 'cause I still feel like a rat's ass for not bein' there when she was living, Korsak. Maura thought that was respectable but she wanted to be near me, and she has to be with the baby, and I—so I took Lydia back to the undertaker in Green Forge, then went to the mine to get Frankie and tell him what all happened."

"So Frankie's in Green Forge, now?"

"Frost said he'd be okay on his own for a while, and I just—I really needed his help, Korsak."

"It's all right, Jane," he said gently. "I understand."

"Lydia asked Maura to t-take the baby," Jane said breathlessly. "But I'm scared, Korsak; I don't know what I'm gonna do."

He gave her shoulder a light shove. "You and I both know exactly what you'll do, Calamity Jane. You'll woman up and take that child in, just like you did Maura's brother."

"Collin didn't have no family left besides us—besides Maura," Jane said. "What if Tommy shows up?"

"We'll find him," Korsak said gravely. "And you'll love that child no matter what happens." His tone softened a bit, and gave Jane's shoulder a steadying grip. "He have a name yet?"

Jane swallowed hard, brushing away some fallen tears. "She." Her voice was thick. "The baby's a girl. Lily Mae."

"Oh. Well, that's a right nice name."

"Yeah. Yeah, we thought so."

"You need me to find you a wet nurse?"

"We found one in Green Forge, but Maura said she was set here."

When Jane said this, she turned, and realized Maura had just climbed down from the carriage. Lily was fast asleep in Maura's arms, her small pink face and a wisp of light brown hair just barely visible from the green blanket she'd been tucked into. Maura asked after Collin, and Korsak said that Melody had agreed to bend her no-gentlemen-allowed rule to let him spend the night with Kay in her room. Jane said she would pick him up in the morning, and with that, Korsak bid them goodnight and returned to town.

Once inside the house, Maura carefully handed the baby over to Jane, then hurried into the study. Though a little uncomfortable holding Lily—sure she'd wake up and start bawling at any moment—Jane followed Maura as best she could, unsurprised to see her scanning the shelf of books. Ultimately she took out a volume entitled _A Treatise of Physical Upbringing of Children_.

"This is a touch outdated, I'm afraid," Maura murmured, speaking almost to herself. "But I thought it might be a useful tool. Until we can get our hands on some of Myerling's evaporated milk, mixing our own formula will have to do."

"Mixing what, now?"

"About twenty years ago, Justus von Liebig developed and patented a formula that would be nutritious for infants whose mothers were unable to produce breast milk. I've been collecting the necessary ingredients for a couple of weeks now, just to be ready in case… in case Lydia needed us to be."

"Is there much to it?"

Maura shrugged. "Just cow's milk, wheat, and malt flour. And a bit of potassium."

"I mean…how do we get her to drink it?"

Maura reached into her bag and pulled out a small glass bottle. The nipple was made of cork, which Jane could not imagine would be very comfortable, but she supposed a baby might not know the difference. "The important thing is to wash it thoroughly after each use," Maura said. "Otherwise…"

Her chin was quivering, and Jane shifted to hold Lily in one arm, using her other hand to take the bottle away from Maura. She placed it on the desk and pulled Maura into a one-armed embrace, gripping her tightly as Maura gave a shuddering sob.

Maura had grown up surrounded by death. It was an inevitable aspect of being raised by a surgeon, whose hospital was attached to his home. Death did not frighten her, except as it applied to the scant few she considered among her loved ones. It was a facet of life, one that everyone had to meet at one point or another.

Her father was the only person close to her who had ever passed away. She hadn't even known Lydia all that well or all that long, yet she felt so connected to her. There was a desperate need to protect her, seeing how needful she was of affection and attention, neither of which she had received much of during her lifetime. The overwhelming joy of successfully delivering the baby had been overshadowed so quickly by the loss of Lydia so shortly afterwards. Given the length of labor, her death felt so abrupt, even if it hadn't been altogether a huge surprise.

Maura knew it was nobody's fault, but she felt guilty for holding Lydia's baby like this, between herself and Jane, when the only reason they had her was because her mother was dead and her father a runaway.

"I didn't want to get her like this," Maura gasped through her tears. "I didn't want a baby to come to us like this, Jane."

"I know, sweetheart," Jane whispered. "I know. But we always knew this was how it was going to be. I mean… not that it would be my brother's daughter, but that somehow the child we took would be parentless. I hate that we had to be there when Lydia died, but I'm glad we were at the same time. She didn't die alone. She didn't die worrying about whether anyone was gonna take care of her child. She died long before her time, but that ain't your fault. And it ain't gonna be your fault if you love this child and love raising her. Lydia would want you to. She _does _want you to. Understand me, Maura?"

Maura nodded against her shoulder, but she still wept.

"You hear that, Lily?" Jane whispered. "You hear that, Lily Mae? We love you. We're gonna love you no matter what. You are always going to have us."

* * *

**A/N**: I spent quite a while writing and re-writing this one. Hope it turned out all right!


	50. Fathers, Mothers, Your Place In All This

"She's so small."

"Sure is, boy."

"Can I hold her?"

"No."

"Please, Jane?"

"No."

"How come?"

"Cause I said so."

"I'll be really, really careful. I promise! Please?"

Jane sighed heavily, recognizing the desperation in Collin's hopeful eyes. "Okay," she grunted, moving aside to make room for him on the couch. "Come sit right here next to me, and be _real _careful, all right? You gotta be real gentle with her. I know she's about the same size as Jo Friday, but Jo can tussle and Lily can't."

"I know, I know," Collin said anxiously, holding out his hands.

"All right. Careful, now."

With much more slowness and hesitancy than was probably warranted, Jane transferred the baby over to Collin's arms. He tenderly wrapped them around Lily, further securing her beyond the blanket Maura had earlier swaddled her in. Jane had worried that being put in new hands might frighten Lily into a crying jag, but she merely blinked up at Collin, trying to focus on him. Collin grinned at her, thrilled to be the recipient of her attention. He looked excitedly over at Jane, who moved back a little on the sofa so she could more easily see both of the kids at once.

"Is this all right?" Collin asked.

"Yeah, son, you're doin' just fine."

Collin looked back at Lily, thinking about the term of endearment Jane had just used. "Am I your son, Jane?"

Her heart skipped a beat, and she tried to sound calm, praying he wasn't about to break her heart. "If you'd be all right with that, Collin, I'd ...I'd love the chance to call you that."

He didn't hesitate: "Sure, Jane!"

She swallowed hard and smiled, reaching over and ruffling Collin's hair. "That's my boy. Look at you with that girl. You're a natural!"

"Is this Maura's baby?" he asked. For some reason, the _r _in her name didn't seem to give him as much trouble as others did ("Wizzoli" was still difficult). Still he couldn't say her name entirely clearly, and his expression always seemed to shift a bit when he said it, as though it were a struggle.

"What makes you ask that, son?"

"She left and came in holding him. I thought maybe when you both left this morning, and you came back with Lily Mae, you left so Maura could have her baby."

Jane chewed her lip, trying to decide how to answer. Maura always told her that honesty was the best policy, and Jane was often inclined to agree—but in this case, it seemed like at least an edited version would be more appropriate.

"That baby is my brother's."

"Frankie?"

Jane had to smile at the way Collin pronounced it, more like "Fwankie." They had met a couple of times, and Collin appreciated that Frankie was more tender and a little more clownish than any other man he'd ever met. Tommy had not been around since Collin and Kay had arrived.

"No, Coll. It's another brother of mine, Tommy."

"So are we just watching the baby for a while?"

"Well now, that's a little harder to say," Jane whispered. "The baby's mother ain't in a condition to look after her anymore, and I'm sorry to say that Tommy ain't around."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know, Collin. Part of me kinda thinks he might not ever be comin' back. And if that's the case, me and Maura here are gonna raise Lily Mae ourselves."

He frowned and cocked his head, staring down at the baby and then back at Jane. "Doesn't she need a father?"

Boy, he really wasn't shy anymore! Jane rubbed the back of her neck and put her arm around Collin's shoulder. "I'll be honest with ya, Collin, I wish her father was around. I think havin' a baby would make him grow up proper."

"How old is he?"

"Older than he acts. Look, point is, her father ain't around."

"Mine wasn't ever, neither," Collin said, his voice low. He was looking at Jane, but she kept her gaze fixed firmly on the baby, partly out of concern that Collin might let her slip, but also wary of what she might see in his face if she glanced at it. "My mother always said she thought she'd never do right raising me without a father."

"You listen to me, son. Your father didn't know nothin'. He had nothing of any value to teach you. From what Kay's told me, your mother was very protective of you, but distant, too." _You probably reminded her of Doyle too much. You and Maura both have his eyes. _"Now it's true, you and Lily have quite a bit in common. Both your mothers are gone. Your father was largely absent during your life, and I reckon Tommy ain't gonna stick around for much of Lily's, on account of bein' ashamed of what he done. But you know what else makes you two alike? Something a lot better than those things?"

Collin was breathless in anticipation. "What?"

She finally met his gaze, which was difficult because tears were on the brink of blinding her. She blinked a few away and took a shuddering breath.

Before she could speak, a door shut quietly behind them. Jane looked over and saw Maura standing, red-eyed, in front of the doorway to their bedroom. It was clear from her expression that she had heard some of the conversation already, and as Jane now appeared lost for words, Maura stepped more fully into the room. Collin twisted around to watch as she walked over to the sofa, settling onto the cushion on Collin's other side.

Putting a hand on his knee, she said in a steady voice, "This is what else you have in common: you are in a house with two... two dogs, one tortoise, and two grown-up _people _who all love you very, very much. Both of these people want to see that you and Lily grow up happy, healthy, and wise. They—that is, we—want you and Lily both to be safe and to be sound. We want what's best for you, and we know we are both capable of providing exactly that. Covering your basic, temporal needs, as well as any emotional ones you may have. That is what true parents do and are, mothers and fathers alike."

"You're my sister, though, aren't you?" Collin asked.

"Yes, Collin. But given the circumstances, I really might fit the bill as more of a parental figure, don't you think?"

Collin couldn't authoritatively say he knew exactly which circumstances Maura was referring to, but he got the gist of the suggestion. It still felt odd to call Maura his sister when he already had one of those, and especially when Maura seemed old enough to be—well, his mother. So he nodded in lieu of saying anything else (because he didn't know what to say), and returned to looking down at the baby.

Maura needed more of a concrete response. "Collin?"

"Yeah?"

"'Yes,'" Jane prompted him, grinning at Maura in hopes of lightening her solemn mood a little bit.

It worked, and Collin corrected himself. "Yes?"

"Are you happy here with us?"

Collin nodded, all youthful enthusiasm and sincerity, the likes of which he had not expressed since moving out West. "Yeah! Yes!" Not sure which one to look at, he went back and forth from Jane to Maura. A slight panic edging into his voice, he asked, "I thought this was my home now—can't I stay? Please?"

Jane leaned over and kissed the top of his head. "God bless you, boy, of course you're stayin'!" She pulled back to allow Maura to kiss him as well, then said, "Heck, we've gotta keep you around—you've got the magic touch! Look, Lily's asleep already!"

"Gosh, she is!" Collin exclaimed. "Can she sleep down with me? In my boat-bed?"

"Hey, what exactly _is _the plan, here?" Jane asked Maura. "I don't suppose you've got a crib stashed some place?"

"Wait, I know!" Collin said, sounding excited. "We can all share your bed! Lily will be on one end, and I'll have my arm around her to protect her. Maura, you can protect me, and Jane will protect you, and Magnum can protect Jane!"

"Oh, Magnum's gonna get on the bed with us, huh? That's quite a line-up there," Jane chuckled. "And who'll keep _him _safe?"

"Bass," Maura suggested. Collin just laughed at that one, and Maura idly stroked his hair. When he'd first come to live with them, he had ducked on instinct whenever Jane or Maura tried to affectionately touch his head in some way. It had taken a considerable amount of time for him to overcome his fear of getting slapped, but with patience and longsuffering, Maura and Jane eventually reached through to him that he had nothing to fear in that regard. "Jane, I thought Lily might sleep between us until we can get our hands on some sort of crib."

"I'll get on it tomorrow," Jane said.

"Are you gonna make one? Can I help?" Collin asked.

"Sure, little man."

"I want to help, too, and not just with painting it," Maura said. Jane raised her eyebrows in gentle surprise. "Let's make a family project out of it."

"As you wish, Dr. Isles. How's your schedule look tomorrow?"

"Well, I have most of my appointments in the morning, but I ought to be through by noon at the latest. I'll be a free lady until I go to Adelaide's in the evening."

"Adelaide?" Collin chirped. "Can I come with you on that one, Maura?"

"Of course, Collin. I'm sure she'll be delighted to see you."

Jane leaned over, gently taking Lily out of Collin's arms. "In order for that to happen, you need to be getting to bed there, son. Time to say good night to Lily Mae."

"Good night, Lily. Lily Mae."

"Go on and give her a kiss, Coll. You won't wake her up."

"Aw, do I have to?" he groaned.

"No, you don't _have _to," Jane said lightly. "But I think it'd be a mighty sweet gesture. There ain't no reason _not _to kiss people you're close to, ain't that right, Maura?"

Fighting a blush, Maura replied, "It certainly is, Jane."

Leaning over Collin, Jane brushed her lips against Maura's cheek, and Maura surprised her by returning the favor with a quick peck on the mouth.

Collin was leaning way back against the sofa, narrowing his eyes and looking back and forth between the two of them with a look of great distrust. Finally, with a light scowl, he shifted and touched his lips to Lily's forehead, pulling back with lightning speed. Jane wanted to laugh, but was cut off by a disapproving look from Maura.

"Collin, I don't want you to be so averse to displaying demonstrations of affection," she said seriously. "Why are you embarrassed to?"

He shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know. Ain't I supposed to be?"

"No, sweetheart, you shouldn't. A kiss shows how much you care about someone. Trying to wipe it off afterwards will negate that sentiment, and send the opposite message. It's nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about, understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Collin mumbled.

He got up off the sofa and slouched in the direction of the cellar, Magnum close on his heels as he descended the stairs. Jane took Lily into the bedroom and got ready for bed, and after a few minutes, Maura went downstairs to ensure that Collin was down for the night. It was still a heartwarming picture to see him lying in his makeshift bed, Magnum sprawled out next to it, ready (despite his lazy appearance) to jump up at any moment if needs be. Maura stepped forward for Jane's usual job, which was to tuck Collin's blanket around him.

"Maura?" he asked tiredly.

"Yes, Collin?"

"When Lily grows up, is she gonna be like you, or like Jane?"

"Well, I suppose since Jane's brother is Lily's father, she'll be more of a Rizzoli than an Isles."

"I mean, is she going to act like you or Jane? You're both women, but you're both real different. How come Jane doesn't dress like other women? How come she's always in trousers?"

"Because that's what she's comfortable in," Maura replied. "She prefers to dress that way, and you know Jane. Nobody's brave enough to tell her to live any different!"

Collin laughed, proud to know someone like Jane who could so fearlessly hold her own. "Is Lily going to wear trousers, too?"

"We'll see what she wants to do," Maura chuckled.

"If _I _was a girl, _I'd _want to wear trousers all the time," Collin said. He started to giggle. "Once when we were in Grand Junction, there was a real strong wind and Kay's dress blew up almost right over her head!"

"Oh, no!"

"Yeah! And everybody could see her drawers! That'd never happen if she'd been wearing trousers!"

"No, I suppose it wouldn't." She leaned down to kiss his forehead, and for once, he didn't squirm. "Time for bed now, Collin."

"Wait, Jane always tells me a story first."

Maura glanced over at the desk in the room, where she saw _Treasure Island_ resting. "Does she read to you?"

"No, she tells me stories about you."

"About me?" Maura asked, sounding genuinely surprised. "What on earth could possibly be entertaining about me?"

Collin grinned slowly. "Well, last night, she told me about the first time you went riding on horseback together. She said you were a real sight in your split skirt, and you held onto her so tight she said she couldn't hardly breathe!"

"Yes, I'm afraid I might have bruised her..."

"It's okay, I asked her about that and she said she liked it."

Maura couldn't fight a smile. "Oh, I'm sure she did."

"So..."

"So?"

"So will you tell me a story? About Jane?"

"All right. Anything in particular you want to know?"

The smile had faded from Collin's face, and he suddenly became very interested in his hands. "Sorta. Um... Kay told me a few days ago about how you came out here 'cause you were supposed to get married. But you're not married. She said your f... fee..."

"Fiancé."

"Your fiancé left, 'cause you asked him to and you wanted to stay with Jane instead."

"All true. Which story would you like to know, Collin?"

"Um... well, how come—or, how'd you know you wanted to live with Jane forever instead of getting married?"

Maura sighed wistfully, settling herself as delicately as she could onto the floor by Collin's bed. "There are many reasons that led me to believe I would be much, _much _better off by choosing Jane to be my lifelong companion, Collin. Do you want to hear something about our father, Collin? Something very grown-up, and a little sad?"

"What?"

"I don't think he was in love with either of our mothers. I think he enjoyed spending time with them for a spell, and maybe he genuinely felt something for them at some point in his life. But he left my mother with child, rushing her into marriage with a man—a wonderful man—who she did not truly love herself. When I was just a year or two younger than you are, she fled the country to go live the life she'd always wanted, and to get away from the pressure of raising me. Doyle certainly wanted nothing to do with me, either, but I didn't find out about him until... well, relatively recently. The point is, although I was able to visit my mother in France every now and then, I constantly doubted whether she actually loved me. I never knew for certain what she made of me, if she wanted me in her life at all. Now Collin, I'm sure your mother loves—loved —you very much. Maybe she just didn't know how to show it."

"She stayed," Collin said quietly. "Doyle never stayed."

"He never stayed," Maura whispered. "My point, Collin, is that I _never _have to question whether Jane loves me. I _know _it, as truthfully as I know any scientific fact. Sometimes we may argue, and sometimes we may be angry with each other, but even so, I know everything she does is for me or for us. We are very, very blessed to have her in our lives."

"Is she from Boston, too?"

"Oh, no. No, she was born and raised right here."

"You met her when you came to live here?"

"Yes," Maura said with a smile. "She rather forcefully made her way into my carriage as it drove from the train station to town. At first I thought 'what a brash soul!', but I must admit, I found her extremely dashing from the start. She cuts a fine figure, don't you think?"

Collin made a face. "I don't know! Does she?"

"Oh, she most certainly does. You'd be hard-pressed to find a more handsome woman in this territory, Collin."

"Jane says you're smart, so I guess you'd know."

There was a hint of smugness in her tone when she replied, "Yes, dear. I would."

Once she'd told him goodnight and started back up towards the main floor, Maura realized what exactly she had just told her little brother. For a moment she worried that maybe she had said too much, but the anxiety was fleeting, and gone by her next step. Speaking or acting frankly was not an issue; it was not uncommon for grown women to be outwardly affectionate with each other. Besides, in due time, Collin was sure to forget that conversation had even taken place. Still, Maura wondered if she ought to tell Jane about it. That was vying for competition with her desire to do more with Jane than sleep, but then she remembered they were sharing their room—their bed—with a baby. Maybe not tonight.

Still, a conversation might be in order, but that was also dashed when Maura slipped into the bedroom. Jane was lying down in her white undershirt and striped pajama pants, Lily resting on her stomach. Both of them appeared soundly asleep, and Maura couldn't bring herself to wake Jane as she got quietly into bed.

Unfortunately, the quiet didn't last for long.

Jane and Maura both woke abruptly when Lily began to wail, and Jane looked shocked that Maura was even in bed.

"When'd you get in here?"

"After I put Collin to sleep!"

"How come I didn't wake up? Sake's alive, Maura, I'm losin' it!"

"Just give me the baby, and I'll see what she wants."

"No, honey, I've got it," Jane murmured, sitting up. "This has been a long day for you. Let me take care of her, okay?"

"Are you sure?"

"Sure as you're born, sweetheart. Go back to sleep!"

It'd been hard to make herself be heard over the noise of Lily's loud cries, but it was doable and she merely hoped that Collin hadn't woken up. These hopes fell when she walked out into the main room of the house, shutting the bedroom door after her, and heard Magnum barking loudly and rushing up the stairs from the cellar.

"_Shhh, _boy, it's just me!" Jane whispered, gesturing with one arm to try and get him to calm down. "We're fine, the baby's fine! _Sh_, boy!"

He went silent, but Jane heard him padding along the floor after her as she walked towards Maura's study. She took a whiff of the diaper cloth tied around Lily, but nothing smelled as though it needed to be changed. Jane tried one of the formula bottles next, figuring she must be hungry, but after just a few sucks on the cork, Lily shook her head to get away from it and continued to scream bloody murder. The hair on the back of her neck rose; Jane looked over her shoulder, worried that Maura wasn't going to be able to sleep with all this noise.

So, Jane directed Magnum back down to the cellar and headed out for the back porch. Nobody was around for a good mile or so, which meant Lily's cries wouldn't be disturbing anyone else. Jane tromped down to the yard and paced back and forth interspersing soothing "_shhh_" sounds with quiet words of comfort—admittedly pointless, she figured, since Lily had no idea what she was saying. At one point Jane tried her hand at singing Maura's favorite lullaby, a tactic she had successfully used in the past to calm babies down from their crying jags.

Nothing seemed to be working tonight, though.

It wasn't so much that the sound of it was grating (though it certainly was); Jane's heart just ached that she couldn't figure out what was upsetting the baby.

"C'mon, don't cry," she pleaded, her words falling on deaf ears. "Please, Lily Mae, don't be upset." Lily's crying only got louder, and Jane hugged her closer, tears coming out of her own eyes as she thought of the horrible cries Lydia had made as she gave birth. "Your mama said she had nobody to speak for her, nobody who cared, until Maura came long. We're gonna speak for you, Lily, we love you. We love ya and you're never gonna be alone, and we're gonna give you a voice when you're old enough." She laughed weakly. "Not that you ain't already got a good set of lungs, huh?"

After pacing back and forth down the yard for what felt like a good half an hour, Jane looked back to the house and saw (her eyes having now fully adjusted to the dark) Jo Friday sitting on the porch. She whistled and it was drowned in the baby's cries; she gestured, but Jo didn't see it—or, Jane figured, she was smart and wanted to keep her distance. Jane took a few steps to the house, and Jo came skipping down the stairs and over to Jane.

"Know what's the matter with her, Jo?" Jane asked, getting down onto the grass and sitting cross-legged. "I can't make her stop."

Jo was sniffing the baby curiously, which only seemed to upset Lily more. There was a brief hiccup where Jane thought maybe, miraculously, the crying was over, but then Lily looked directly at Jo and screamed possibly her loudest yet. Jo pulled back abruptly, as if offended, but yipped when Jane tried to stand up.

"C'mon, girl, we're just gonna have to let her cry it out," Jane said.

Jo Friday walked one circle around Jane, then stopped on her right side, where she had a good view of the baby. After a while, Jane realized that Jo was howling. It wasn't loud, and it wasn't angry or desperate sounding; her mouth was barely open. Jo stood up and put her front paws on Jane's knee, trying to get closer to the baby, trying to see her eyes.

As Lily continued to cry and Jo kept up her almost-melodic howling, it occurred to Jane how funny it was that neither of them were able to communicate verbally in ways she could fully understand. Clearly Lily was upset, but Jane didn't know why. Clearly Jo was attempting to help, but Jane wasn't sure how. The miracle of it was that Jo did not give up, and as Lily realized she wasn't going to go away and also wasn't going to hurt her, she suddenly became fascinated by this new thing that had sprung up into her life.

And miraculously, her crying lessened, then ceased altogether.

"Jo," Jane whispered in astonishment, as Jo kept up her soft whimpering sounds. "Jo Friday, you've done it! You did it, girl! Good dog!"

She looked over and saw Jo's tail wagging.

* * *

The next morning, Maura came out of the bedroom to see Jane in the sitting room with Lily, barely keeping her eyes open as the baby silently took in the room.

"Darling, were you up all night?" Maura asked, having slept like a log once Jane left.

"Uh, not quite," Jane yawned. "Jo finally got her to quiet down the first time, but I stayed out in case she got goin' again, and sure enough, she did. _That _time she was hungry. I ain't sure what was wrong at first."

"I'm so sorry," Maura sighed, going to sit on the other side of the sofa. "Jane, next time you really should wake me. It's only fair that we do this in turns."

"Nah, I was already up," Jane scoffed. "Besides, the sound ain't so bothersome to me as it probably is for some people."

"Jane, are you honestly telling me that sound doesn't bother you?" Maura chuckled.

"Well no, I mean it bothers me 'cause I know it means she's upset," Jane said seriously. "But you mean, don't it bother me 'cause it's loud?" When Maura nodded, Jane shook her head and sat Lily up a little more fully on her lap. "No chance, doc. I'm used to loud sounds from things like trains crashin', and dynamite blowing up, and guns going off real close to my head. Sure her crying ain't exactly a symphony, but I'm grateful for it all the same. It ain't scary to me. It reminds me of the family I got." She leaned over for a quick kiss. "I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you, Jane. I always will."

"Yeah," Jane teased her. "You better! 'Cause this ain't no easy thing, you know. Raisin' a family."

"I know," Maura sighed, putting her arm around Jane's shoulder and leaning on it. "But I think we're up to the challenge."

* * *

**A/N**: I thought I'd put this in because I feel like in most Rizzles baby fics I've read, the baby is just this magical lovely thing that's all smiles and rainbows 100% of the time and never get any of the stress or the less pleasant mysteries of babyhood. I know it got a bit fluffier at the end there, but I guess I just couldn't escape that.

Next up, where Tommy has been all this time.


	51. We Are Family

A/N: Chugging along to some kind of conclusion here, folks. Thanks for sticking with me. I know I said I'd explain where Tommy had been here, but I only got around to sort of barely-not-even implying it in this chapter.

* * *

"Jane. ...Jane. Jane. Deputy Rizzoli. Jane."

"Lemme try, Korsak." Frost cleared his throat. "Hey. Jane, Jo Friday's tail is on fire. Maura just shot the postman. Jane. I decided I want to marry you. _Jane._"

"Incredible," Korsak muttered, getting up from behind his desk.

Frost and Jane were sitting on the other side, but Jane had dozed off several minutes ago thanks to her useful ability to fall asleep anywhere in any position. Korsak and Frost had been so involved in their conversation that they hadn't noticed at first that Jane was asleep, until Frost eventually found it strange that she hadn't tried to butt in yet. Frost was almost worried: it wasn't like Jane to fall into a deep sleep like this, even if she had gone days without proper shut-eye.

When he expressed this concern, Korsak waved him off and said, "You'll feel different if you're ever a parent, Frost. Besides, Jane didn't hardly have any time to get herself prepared for this. I don't blame her for being exhausted."

"Hold on," Frost said, holding a hand up when Korsak moved to give Jane's shoulder a shake. He pulled out his gun and leaned towards Jane, aiming his firearm off to the floor. He cocked it, and at the _click _of the hammer, Jane's eyes shot open. Frost expected her to react right away, but she appeared disoriented; still, in a matter of moments, she'd reached for her own pistol before realizing where exactly she was. Frost fired the bullet, effectively killing a roach.

"Don't do that, Frost," Jane muttered, rubbing her eyes.

"Just wanted to make sure you were still on your toes," he said. "Is it just me, Sheriff, or has domesticity finally calmed Calamity Jane?"

"Barold Frost, I hope you get charge of a baby sometime soon," Jane yawned. "Then you'll understand it. It ain't just about staying up all night when she cries; it's about ...well, lots of things you won't get till it happens to you."

"Jane," Korsak said softly. "You know there's still a chance Tommy could come back and take Lily Mae, don't you?"

She looked miserable at the very thought, but her expression soon became as aggressive as her tone when she said, "Yeah, I know. If he does, though, I'm gonna put up one hell of a fight. You can count on that." She cracked her knuckles, shifting recklessly. "Korsak? How could Tommy do something like this? How ...how could he have done this and run away, given up? D'you think if I'd not been away so—"

"I think you and Frost were doing exactly what it was you needed to be doing," Korsak said shortly. "Tommy's a grown man, and he's made his choices. You can't blame yourself for that. Now if we can get back on topic, here?"

The morning was largely uneventful, and as Jane headed out that afternoon to start patrolling, she met Maura, Collin, and Kay by a long row of houses at the end of town. Maura was holding Lily, and Kay was dutifully standing by what appeared to be a very battered, old-looking crib.

"How're my girls this lovely afternoon?" Jane asked, smiling down at Lily and offering Maura a quick kiss to the cheek. She nodded at Kay, who smiled bracingly back at her. Collin cleared his throat, arms folded indignantly, and Jane gave his head an affectionate pat. "And how's my boy?"

"Fine! How're you?" he replied, stiffly imitating a little bow Maura had taught him to try out earlier.

"Better, now that you're here. Is this what I think it is?" she asked, nudging the crib with her foot.

"It certainly is!" Maura said brightly.

"A tugboat!"

"It's a crib!" Collin laughed, as Maura rolled her eyes.

"Where'd you get it?"

"Adelaide," Maura replied.

"Addie? I thought you weren't supposed to see her until this evening."

"I wasn't, but she stopped us on our way into town. This was apparently the crib her youngest child had slept in—she said you'd know him?"

Jane laughed and rocked the crib. "Sure did."

"She knew we needed one, and she offered to let us have this. It needs a little fixing up, but I told her it was nothing we couldn't handle."

"You're darn right it ain't!" Jane said, grabbing the crib by both ends and picking it up. "Hmm... y'know what..." She carefully set it back down. "I think I'd better go ask Korsak to borrow his carriage. We'll take this thing right back up to the corral and fix it up proper—if we stick to that area, I think it counts as keepin' an eye on my patrol."

She winked at Maura, then hurried back to the sheriff's station for the carriage. While Maura and the kids were left waiting, a small assembly of elderly woman came ambling down the street, led by Biddy Charleston. With a grand wave of her walking stick, she brought the group to a stop, and poked the stick in Lily's direction. Maura swerved with unnecessary force to ensure no contact was actually made.

"Whose child is that?" Biddy asked abruptly.

Maura was flushed; she knew it wasn't her place without Jane's permission to out what Tommy had done. She could feel a rash coming on as she tried to think of how she might reply, but Kay half-stepped in front of her, hands on her hips to ask, "Who wants to know?"

The women all gasped, and Biddy turned her sharply disapproving eye on Kay, who did not budge. "Step aside, you rapscallion, unless you have a useful answer for us."

"This baby is none of your concern," Kay said curtly.

"She's my sister!" Collin argued.

Biddy looked down and raised her eyebrows at him. All anyone in town knew about Kay and Collin was that Maura was the only living relative they had (thought technically she and Kay actually shared no blood), and that as Collin was still a child, Maura had taken him in to raise him. The general consensus among Biddy and her friends was that Maura really ought to try and find a husband to help her bring up the child—especially as he was a boy—but as he was in fact her brother, it didn't quite feel like their place to make the suggestion.

"Your sister looks quite young," Biddy said.

"Well, she's a ... baby," Collin said, looking a little confused.

"Precisely," said Biddy. "Where did she come from, Dr. Isles?"

"She was born by one of my patients in Green Forge," Maura answered, holding Lily a little closer. "The father has run off, and before the mother died after childbirth, she asked me to raise the baby."

Biddy clucked disapprovingly. "Did she know you have no husband?"

"Yes. She did."

"Miss Isles, regardless, you must think of the child," Biddy said. "It has a right to a mother _and _a father, so unless you foresee a husband in your near future, I would suggest setting to work finding _fit _parents for her."

"Thank you for your input, Mrs. Charleston," Maura said in a sweet voice. "But I have already taken the liberty of locating fit parents for her. I am one of them, and here comes my companion of choice right now."

The group of women collectively looked over their shoulders to see Jane pulling up in Korsak's carriage. Biddy just threw Maura a last disapproving look before leading the way on down the street. Jane hopped out of the carriage and picked up the crib, stuffing it in the back as best she could. Helping Collin and then Maura into the front, she asked Kay if she'd like to come along.

"No," Kay sighed, watching Biddy's group shuffle along. "I think I'll follow them into town and spit at the backs of their heels."

"Atta girl!" Jane laughed.

"Trust me," Kay said with a bit of a growl. "Where I spit, no grass grows. Ever."

"Kid, you're starting to grow on me."

"Likewise."

Pleased that Kay's attitude towards her had gone a step beyond merely curt, Jane bid her goodbye and clambered up into the carriage. She started off at her usual (fast) pace, but Lily made her unhappiness with it known fairly quickly, and with Maura's encouragement, Jane slowed down significantly. Even though the bumps they hit were minimal as they crawled along, Collin twisted around and kept a firm grip on the crib in case it were to suddenly come flying out of carriage.

Once everyone and everything was unloaded at the corral, Jane sent Collin into the barn to get some tools for them to work with. He dutifully headed off to do so, and Jane took Lily gently from Maura's arms.

"Hey there, pretty girl," she whispered, starting to pace. "Know where we are? This here's Korsak's corral. It's one of the first places me and Maura ever had a real conversation. I was goin' around, trying to pick a new horse, and havin' a helluva time with it till I saw this _vision _here standing by the fence. She was watching me, and I thought this was sort of a funny thing for a lady to do. I came on over, and she smiled at me real big, and we got to talkin' again. She offered to fix my belt loop, and she's been fixin' me ever since."

"Don't listen to her, Lily Mae," Maura said softly. Both of them were looking down at the baby, but Maura at least put her hand on Jane's back. "She fixed herself. She fought her own demons, on her own terms."

"I had help," Jane protested.

Maura turned to give her a swift kiss. "And I'll always be here if you need it in the future."

Jane nodded down at the baby. "She needs both of us. And I want her."

Maura's arm wrapped a little more firmly around Jane's waist. "I know, sweetheart. So do I."

Collin returned just then, lugging a hammer, a little makeshift box of nails, and the sanding paper Jane had described. Jane sat down cross-legged by the crib, and Collin knelt beside her. Maura held it steady as Jane, still cradling Lily, directed Collin where to start sanding. He looked happy to be doing something productive, and watching him and Jane together, Maura couldn't help but think of what Kay had told her about his relationship with their mother, Hope.

_"First she lost my father, then she lost Doyle. We were all she had left of those relationships, and she couldn't see us for what she'd lost. She fussed over me, not wanting me to turn out like she did, and Collin really wanted the attention I hated. She loved him, sure, but she had a funny way of showing it." _

It wasn't possible to fathom that Collin might ever doubt how strongly Jane felt for him.

"Maura!" Jane said, calling her out of her reverie. "You said you wanted to help, didn't ya? See that leg towards you, on the left? Kinda wobbles a bit?"

"Yes."

"Fix it up. Collin, can ya hold it still for Maura, there?"

"Sure!"

As Maura pried out an old nail, the new one clenched between her teeth, Jane couldn't help chuckling. "Well, lookit you! There may be hope for you yet, Maura, to be a real woman livin' on the range."

"I think I've already paid my dues in that regard," Maura said, squinting up at Jane. She brushed some hair out of her face and slipped the old nail into the pocket of her apron.

"I suppose that's true. Collin, did you know Maura can use a bow and arrow so good, she could probably hit a pen point with one if she had to?"

"Hark who's talking!" Maura laughed, putting the new nail in place. "Collin, the first time Jane and I met, we were riding in a carriage and she had one of the men on top throw a coin off—and she shot it clean through."

Collin's eyes were wide with amazement. "You can do that?"

"Sure as you're born, boy. That's one of the reasons Sheriff Korsak trusts me so much to be his deputy. Ma always said I'd never get a man with a gun, but I'm all right with how things turned out. It's mighty useful havin' a doctor in the family."

"Thank you," Maura chuckled.

Speaking of family, Frankie passed by a few minutes later, looking utterly exhausted. He was barely able to sit straight on his horse, and couldn't be bothered to dismount when he stopped wearily to say hello. Frost had just gone to relieve him at the mine, and Frankie said he planned to go sleep for twelve hours.

Nearly as soon as he'd been laughingly sent on his way, two rather old gentlemen stopped by the corral. They were strangers in town and had hoped to find someone hospitable enough to lend them some water. Jane pointed them in the direction of the well, assuming they would leave once their thirst was quenched, but the men ambled back towards them, looking a little restless.

"Ma'am, we couldn't help noticing the hard work you're going to there," said the larger one, nodding at Maura and her hammer. "Can we give you a hand?"

"That's generous of you, sir, but I've got a handle on it, thank you."

"Where you fellas from?" Jane asked, narrowing her eyes at them.

"Oh! Where are my manners? Name's Kenneth Leahy, but you all can call me Kenny. This here's my good friend Lyle."

Jane nodded and shook their hands, balancing Lily in one arm. "Leahy, Lyle. Where ya headed?"

"Oh, just up the road a ways," said Kenny, gesturing towards Green Forge. "We're just passing through, came by way of Colt City."

"You from there?"

"No, ma'am, we were just paying our respects. Stopped by Jake Wyatt's marker."

Collin stood up, admittedly not a very dramatic move for someone so small, but it got the attention of the surrounding adults. "Jake Wyatt!" he spat, looking more furious than Jane thought any child had the right to. "You paid respect to Jake Wyatt?!"

"Calm down there, son," Kenny said calmly.

"He's a scoundrel!"

"My boy, he was a hero," Kenny insisted.

"Sir, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't put ideas like that in _my_ boy's head," Jane said steadily, reaching out to put her hand on Kenny's arm and keep him from leaning closer to Collin. She knew as far as the boy was concerned, an outlaw like Jake Wyatt was no better than Paddy Doyle. And besides, the last thing she needed was someone else around like Tommy, who worshipped Jake. "Mr. Wyatt was a sad, degenerate man. He ain't worth cryin' over."

"Hold on now," said the man called Lyle, looking down at Maura. "I seen your picture, miss. Ain't you the last woman who kissed Jake Wyatt before he died?"

Maura took a short breath, trying to concentrate on the crib. "Incidentally."

Lyle laughed. "Incidentally? How's that?"

Kenny gave Lyle's shoulder a small shove. "That ain't a proper line of questioning, my friend," he said shortly. "I apologize, miss. Don't you listen to him. But I'll have you know this, ladies: Dakota territory, eight years ago. I was holed up in a shack no bigger than the interior of a stagecoach. Surrounded on all sides. I used to be the law in this one city, see, and some ruffians decided to try and take me out. My deputies were tied up. I was trapped."

Despite his initial distrust and dislike of this man, Collin was captivated: "What did you do?"

"_I _didn't do much, besides pray. Somebody jumped on top of the shack, and I thought, this is it. I'm done for. I couldn't see a thing, except for a tiny hole in the door about the size of a tea saucer. It was night, and it was dark, but I could see this posse comin' for me, and I figured maybe their leader was the one who'd jumped on the roof of the shack. That was it. He was gonna break his way down and kill me."

"Did he?!"

"It was the most amazing thing. I hear this voice call out, 'if you all wanna live, you'll turn right around and leave this man alone.' Son, I ain't ever heard a voice that meant more business in my life. The moon was hangin' just so I could see the face of the man in front. They all had their rifles trained up to the roof, and one took a shot. I thought, 'this man is done for,' but he fired right back and I saw the hat of the posse's leader go flyin' off. Shot clean off his head."

"Did he kill him?"

"Didn't have to. He said, 'You better think twice before you take a shot at Jake Wyatt.' And boy, you'd think the devil himself had come to town by how fast those fellas scattered."

"He saved your life?" Maura asked, glancing at Jane.

"And countless others by extension, I'm sure," Kenny said. "I understand maybe Mr. Wyatt didn't obey the law every step of the way, but I can't help wanting to pay my respects on account of what he done. See, boy?" he said, smiling at Collin. "Sometimes things ain't so black and white as they seem."

They were gone shortly afterwards, saddling up and heading back on their way. Collin looked terribly confused.

"Maura?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Is it true? You really kissed Jake Wyatt?"

"Collin, you leave your sister alone about that," Jane said authoritatively, cuing him to look up at her nervously.

"But—"

"You're just a boy, Collin. There are some things that just ain't gonna make sense to you at this age, understand? Those men were right; Jake Wyatt's a complex figure, and we ain't gonna get into it right now. The only thing you need to know is that Maura's the purest thing in this territory. She ain't ever done a thing wrong."

"Yes, ma'am," Collin mumbled, though he still looked doubtful.

He remained quiet for the next several minutes, merely doing what Jane and Maura instructed and not bending to their attempts to engage him in conversation. It reached a point where Jane worried that Maura was going to faint from anxiety soon, and she was about to suggest they call it quits for the day when she heard another carriage rumbling up the road. This one carried Angela and Korsak, both of whom appeared to be in very high spirits.

"Hello, honey!" Angela cried, passing Jane and Maura and sweeping instantly down on Collin.

"Hullo," he said back.

"Sheriff, what brings you h—"

_Boom._

An ear-splitting explosion went off just up the road. Angela fell to the ground, and Korsak barely managed to catch Collin from doing the same. Maura's heart was pounding in horror; she had never heard a sound even close to matching this one in volume or type. Jane squinted in the direction of Green Forge, where the sound seemed to be coming from—it was dragging on, and after the shock had surged through her, she remembered the only other time she had heard it.

Making herself heard over the noise was difficult. "Dynamite!" she yelled towards Korsak. "The mine?!"

The mine that hadn't been operative in years. The one that was recently targeted by some desperate pillagers who were sure there was still gold to be found. The one Frost had been watching, on hand to keep an eye out for any suspicious characters.

"Ma, take Collin and Lily and stay here!" Jane shouted, putting the screaming baby into Angela's arms.

"Wait, Jane, I wanna come with you!" Collin cried.

Jane whisked around to face him, ready to be stern and stand-offish, but the desperate look on his face—the concern of being separated from her, the fear of sending her off to something that seemed so dangerous—nearly made her burst into tears. She got down on her knees and pulled him as close to her as she could; he returned the hug with every mite of strength within him.

"Don't go, don't go, don't go," he begged, and Jane could feel him shaking with sobs.

"Collin, my partner's over there, I gotta go," she said back.

"But—"

"But _you're _my boy," she said, pulling back to look him in the eye. Her hands were trembling, and to compensate—or perhaps just really drive home her point—she was gripping either side of his face, tight. "And that means _I am coming back_, Collin. I can't go till you say you believe me when I say that."

"Y...you..."

"I am not. Leaving you. I will be back. Understand?"

He held her gaze for a few agonizingly long moments, then nodded and threw his arms around her neck one more time.


	52. Till It's Gone

**A/N**: I feel like this is one of the few chapters where I've lived up to my hopes for this story and what it could have/should have been. Sorry it's been so sluggish here and there- I really do want to thank those of you who are still reading and still kind enough to leave feedback. That always makes my day.

* * *

Maura had planned on following Jane to the mine anyway, but Collin had insisted on it: nervous that Frost was already hurt—or that Jane soon could be—he had expressed his concern that a doctor be on hand, and Maura was fully prepared to take on that role. She and Jane threw themselves into Korsak's carriage, and he hurried them towards the source of the sound that had thrown the residents of Hollow Creek and Green Forge into a panic. The mine was way off the main road, but still clearly visible as Korsak veered the carriage into its direction.

As they got closer, the rumbling of the cave-in seemed to have finally stopped, and that deadening silence was worse to Jane than the noise. She urged the horses to go faster, little though she knew that did, and clasped her hands together anxiously. Korsak had gone white, and Maura's mouth had fallen open with the shock of seeing the site in such a state of destruction.

Trapped deep inside the rubble was Deputy Barry Frost and the lowlife brother of his partner, who he had just found before the explosion went off.

Once the dust had settled, Frost groaned and tried to shift a large rock off his arm. "Tommy, you all right?"

There was a loud cough. "Nope."

"Where are you hurt?"

"Everywhere."

"Try to hang on—someone must've heard all this go on. Somebody'll be here, they can get you help. Both of us."

Tommy coughed again, shaking his head. Mineral dust had been thrown into his face, and with both arms pinned down by rubble, he couldn't wipe it away. His eyes burned, and he screwed them shut. "That ain't what I mean," he choked out, his throat dry. "Frost?"

"Yeah?"

Tommy was silent for so long, that Frost worried he might have passed out. He struggled to free himself, desperate to do what he could for a citizen of his town, and felt only slightly reassured when Tommy finally spoke again: "You know my sister better than anyone. Almost. You know her better than me."

Frost wasn't really sure how to respond to that. "I've known her a long time, I guess."

"Tell a dying man the truth, Frost. You ever try anything funny with her?"

"With Jane? No."

"Good. That'd be a—a crime against nature, y'know, and I like you, Frost. I like to think ya wouldn't do something like that. Jane's already—you know what she's done?"

"Regarding..."

"The esteemed..." He coughed violently, groaning in frustration at his inability to move. "Dr. Isles. I saw 'em, Frost. Together. Ain't natural."

Frost grunted, giving the rock on his arm the hardest shove he could muster. "Funny," he said. "I think your sister's at her most natural when she's around Dr. Isles."

"What d'you mean?" Tommy asked quickly.

"I mean she...I dunno, Tommy, I mean it just seems right." He sighed and briefly abandoned his attempt to free himself, trying to let his body relax and regain some energy. "Like you said, I've known Jane a long time. Know what she's given up and what she's fought for. I know she was searching ...for an eternity. Searching for something permanent. Seems like she's at peace now. You oughtta respect that." A bit viciously, he added, "At least when Jane left, she'd write to her family. Nobody knew where you were."

He could make out some sort of sound from Tommy's direction, but wasn't sure if it was a laugh or just more wheezing, trying to breathe. "Wanna know something, Frost? Funny thing, I guess. I'm gonna be a father."

"You already are," Frost said harshly. "Maura delivered it."

"Yeah?" Tommy asked, sounding eager. "Is he big? Healthy?"

"He's a she."

"Oh." Was that a hint of disappointment? "That's all right, I guess."

"Her name's Lily Mae."

"Mae?"

"Yeah."

"Mae... Jane said that's what our Pop used to call our mother. Full name was Maria."

"Makes sense, I guess. Jane picked the name."

"What? How come?"

"Well, like I said," Frost muttered slowly. "Maura delivered the baby. Lydia's gone, Tommy. She was too sick to make it after Lily was born."

Tommy felt his heart plummet. In vain he tried to shift so he could see Frost, and suddenly he thought he might vomit. He had been prepared to quietly accept that he would die here; every breath felt like it could well be his last. But now he had been flung into a full-on panic: how could Lydia be dead?

"N-no, sh—she's not, Frost, she can't be."

"She is. So don't tell me you're a dyin' man, Tommy. You've got a child out there who needs you, and you've still got some growing to do yourself."

"Frost, I've—I've been trying to—I couldn't support 'em on what I had, painting houses and other buildings. I didn't have the means."

"You should have asked your family. They'd have helped you!"

"In a pig's eye," Tommy grunted, now actively trying to free himself. "Ma would probably have had a heart attack if she figured out what I'd done, and besides, I—I couldn't support a family on borrowed money."

"What'd you think, you were gonna find gold up here?"

"I did," Tommy said weakly. "I found it. Everyone thought it was all gone, Frost, but truth is, they were just too scared to look. Thought this place was too dangerous."

Frost had to laugh at that one. "Well! How d'you think they managed to think something ridiculous like that? This place was off-limits for a reason, Tommy. You're trespassing."

"They told me there was still some gold," Tommy coughed out. "I was gonna find it—I was gonna show everybody, I was gonna show Lydia I could be somebody..."

"Who told you?"

In his efforts to extricate himself from under a heavy pile of rocks, Tommy dislodged a small boulder that plummeted, ultimately causing another avalanche of dirt and rocks deeper down into the mine.

Below, Korsak was leading Jane and Maura into what they had naively hoped to be safe territory. With the aftershock, as it were, Korsak's lantern was extinguished and Jane quickly did what she could to shield Maura—though no rubble wound up reaching them.

"Please go back," Jane whispered.

Maura almost looked offended that Jane would even suggest it. "No," she said plainly. "I'm not leaving you."

Korsak held up a hand for silence: above them, they could hear loud coughing. "Frost!" Korsak called. "You up there?"

"That you, old man?"

"Hang on—we're comin'!"

Jane pulled out a match and struck it against the heel of her boot, trying to find a path that could get them to where Frost's voice had come from. It took the efforts of three more lit matches, but she eventually located what appeared to be a vertical tunnel lined with wooden planks. She imagined that when the mine had been operative, some sort of pulley system might have existed here. Stepping into the crevice, she looked up and could see a small patch of light.

"Frost!" she yelled.

"I'm here!"

His voice definitely sounded closer from this spot. Jane ducked out to talk to Korsak and Maura, fingering the rope she had slung around her arm. "I'm gonna climb up there—no disputes," she said shortly. "I'll be the fastest. I'll throw down a rope once I get there, all right?"

Korsak nodded. "Go to it, deputy."

Jane swallowed anxiously and gave Maura's hand a squeeze before turning and going back into the tunnel. After a moment's hesitation, she reached up for the highest plank she could, and started to climb. Finding her footing was a little difficult in the dark, and it was particularly off-putting not being sure how close she was to the top. The light might be getting nearer, but the exact distance was hard to calculate. Still, its closeness was encouraging, and she began going a little faster than was probably wise.

Nearly there, she placed her foot down hard on a piece of rotted wood. It gave way on contact, and Jane faltered: she slipped, tried to grab hold of another plank, but it broke away and she found herself falling. For all the terror that briefly enveloped her, it was a relatively short fall; still, certainly enough to warrant Maura's cry of shock.

Jane tried instantly to get back on her feet, but a searing pain her back made her swear loudly and turn onto her side.

"Jane, are you all right?" Maura asked anxiously, throwing herself onto her knees next to Jane's body.

"I'm fine," Jane grumbled, though this clearly wasn't the case. She staggered to her feet, checking to make sure she hadn't landed on an old nail or the like—no; all that pain was simply residual from hitting the ground.

"Jane, you shouldn't g—"

"Don't _tell _me I shouldn't go up there, Maura!"

"You're hurt! You could seriously injure yourself further if you—"

Jane couldn't believe she was serious. "Maura! I've been in scrapes worse than this all my life, and you ain't stoppin' me from going up there." She bent down to retrieve her rope, screwing her eyes shut with pain and clenching her teeth to hold back a moan. "I'm doing this, and I'm gonna be okay."

Much as it killed her to go slowly, Jane took her time scaling the planks now. Instead of blindly grabbing and struggling along, she checked each one, running a hand over the top and bottom to check for weak spots. If any arose, she would move on to the next, as much as her strength would allow her. The turtle's pace was infuriating, but she was at least able to be sure she could safely make it to the top this time.

"Look out below!" she called down, shifting a few rocks near the top of the tunnel.

Some of them fell, and she was able to pull herself up onto the second level. Eyes skirting the room, she quickly found a broken beam, around which she could tie one end of the rope. Knotting it tightly and tugging as hard as she could, Jane eventually deemed it safe, and tossed the other end down the dark tunnel.

"Here, Jane," Frost said, once she had accomplished this task. She whirled around and saw the top half of her partner, the rest of him buried in rocks. He shook his head as she made for him, and he did his best to nod in Tommy's direction. "Your brother's over there. I think he might've got hurt bad in that last tumble just now."

With Frost's assurances that he could stand to wait, Jane hurried in the direction he'd sent her. Her voice quickly grew hoarse with Tommy's name, anxiety filling her when he failed to respond. Soon she saw a hand—it looked utterly lifeless, but racing for it, she was able to see the rest of Tommy, most of him trapped. Jane gasped sharply at the amount of blood that was seeping down the side of his face from the top of his head.

"Tommy," she whispered, immediately starting to shift some of the rubble off him. "Tommy, c'mon, kid. Get up."

A minute or so passed. Frost yelled out in pain, and Jane whipped around to see that Korsak had made it up, and was lifting the rock that had pinned down Frost's arm.

"Don't worry, partner," Jane said to him. "Maura's here, she'll fix ya right up in a jiff."

Maura made it up shortly afterwards, and as Korsak went to help Jane free Tommy, she started to bind Frost's wound. "Is that the culprit over there?" she asked.

"Uh...it's Tommy." He winced and she froze. "I dunno how long he's been here. He was hoping to get his hands on some gold, but I think that's all just—it's made up; there ain't been anything here for years. Cleaned out."

"Is he conscious?"

"I don't think so."

Once Maura had bandaged him up as well as she could, they both hurried over to where Jane and Korsak were still working hard. Even with his bad arm, Frost wanted to do what he could to help Korsak with a particularly large boulder; he went to work pushing, mostly with his shoulder, as Korsak pulled from the other side. Like Jane, Maura had gasped at seeing Tommy's blood-stained face, and Jane looked worriedly at her.

"What can I do?" she asked in a trembling voice. Reaching for his wrist, she said, "He's still alive, Maura, I can feel it—I can feel a pulse here."

Maura reached for his wrist, and looked somberly at Jane as she counted out the pulse. It was agonizingly slow. She jumped when she felt Tommy's hand start to grope for her own, and his eyes slowly opened. Jane quickly took Maura's place, and he struggled to keep his gaze fixed on her.

"Janie?"

"Talk to him," Maura whispered. "Keep him conscious, Jane."

"Hey, little brother," Jane said, trying to smile. "Hey, I'm here."

"I'm—I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Tommy, we're gonna get you outta here." He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, not realizing how tightly he was gripping his sister's hand. It was starting to go numb, but Jane knew that was nothing compared to the pain Tommy had to be going through right now. "Hold on, T, just hold on. Stay with me."

"Frost said... the baby..."

"Yeah, Lily Mae Rizzoli. She's beautiful, Tommy. I can't wait for you to see her."

"You oughtta... slug me," he choked out, shaking his head. "I left her. Wanted—was gonna... come back..."

"Tommy, it'll be okay. You're our prodigal boy!" Jane said, tears sliding tracks down the grime on her cheeks. "We'll talk this all out when we get back—we'll help you."

He forced his eyes open, blinking wearily at Jane, then looking over at Maura. "Sorry."

"Talk when you're better, Tommy, it's all right."

Would that he had the strength to shake his head again. "I wish I'd understood you better, Jane. I—I'm sorry. Tell her—tell Lily?"

Jane opened her mouth to speak, but the words didn't come out right away; they were drowned with a fresh sob, and she couldn't even feel Maura supportively putting an arm around her, trying to steady her.

"Whatever it is, you'll tell her yourself someday, Tommy—_come on!_"

Korsak succeeded in shifting enough rock free that Tommy was able to take a real breath. His head, shoulders, and part of his chest had been exposed before, and now the left half of his torso was free as well.

"God, Jane, tell her I'm s-sorry and—and I'll see her someday."

* * *

"_Are they really down there, Jane?"_

"_Nah. Those are just their graves, Tommy. Angela says Pop and mother are in heaven now, so we better act good. They can see us all the time now. No hiding!" _

_He looked up at the dark sky. Frankie was still in Green Forge, but Tommy had begged Jane to take him back to Colt City one more time after their father's funeral service. "So if they're watching right now, above us... that means they're together?"_

"_I reckon so, yup."_

"_So when we die, we're all gonna be together again?" he asked eagerly. _

"_That's the only way it seems fittin'. But don't you go talkin' about death like that, Tommy! You think Pop and mother wanna hear talk like that?"_

"_Don't they wanna be with us again?"_

"_Not till you've good and lived your life, understand?" She stood up and tugged her hat down tighter onto her head, looking like she meant business. "There's lots for us left to do down here, little brother!"_

* * *

"Jane?"

"There's still lots left for you to do down here, Tommy, don't—don't—"His grip on her hand was growing slack, and keeping his eyes open was clearly a struggle. "No—Tommy, c'mon, _come on_—"

As kids, Jane had always pushed her younger brother to go farther. She tended to be hard on him, but she'd maintained it was in his best interest. With no parents, his oldest sibling was the person he grew up most eager to impress. Even during her long absences, a letter of encouragement from her could help him try and see the light of a dark situation. They would tease, she would worry over him, and he'd give her plenty of justifiable reason for that concern. At the end of the day, though, he always listened. He didn't always tell her and he didn't always act like it, but he filed away her advice every time she gave it. Eventually, he told himself, he'd come around to heeding her word.

He'd always seen her as the singular most powerful figure in the world. But force to be reckoned with or not, Jane Rizzoli did not possess the ability to stave off inevitable mortality: the last of her tear-stained begs for him to hold on fell on ears that could no longer hear her, spoken to a body that would never again draw breath.

* * *

Save for the pathetic sobs she could not contain, Jane did not speak a word for the entirety of their ride back home. She had not responded, in verbal or physical language, to Maura's attempts to comfort her.

They hadn't gotten far from the mine when Jane transferred to the back of the open carriage, where Tommy's body had been carefully laid down. Once it had been possible to pull him from the wreckage, Jane had tried weakly to carry him back towards the tunnel, but her arms felt like they were made of straw—useless. Korsak had silently boosted Tommy over his shoulder to take him back down, and from there, eventually hoisted him into the carriage.

Nobody spoke as they drove back. Bouts of silence would pass when Jane thought maybe she had finally gotten a hold of herself, but then the tears would spring anew. She already felt as though her insides had been gutted hollow, but then a new thought would occur to her and it would set her off, no matter how irrational.

Guilt for taking his child before he'd even been gone.

What Angela's face would be like when she saw him.

What Frankie's would look like.

They had lost their father and their mother, and now the baby of the family was gone. He had said horrible things to Jane. Horrible, detestable things. She had been ready to fight him, if necessary, to keep Lily if he'd ever come back for her. Lately every time she'd thought of him, an intense dislike boiled in the pit of her stomach—she'd get cagey, agitated.

_But she had never, __ever__ wanted anything like this to happen_.

Korsak slowed the carriage automatically when they reached Jane and Maura's house.

"I can't do it," Jane blurted. "I can't do it, I can't do it."

Maura twisted around and reached for her, resting her hand on Jane's shoulder. "Sweetheart?"

"Frankie and Ma—I c-can't do it!"

"I don't think you're gonna have much of a choice on that one," Frost said. "Because here comes Frankie."

Jane turned and saw Frankie riding up on horseback from the corral, and she made one vain wipe at her eyes before jumping out of the carriage. He leapt off his horse to meet her, stunned at the expression on her face.

"Jane, what happened? You all right?"

"Just fine, Frankie, I found Tommy."

He glanced up at the carriage, expecting to see his brother sitting upright, but there was only Korsak, Frost, and Maura. Maura glanced downwards, and Frankie's expression softened and sobered at the same time. He launched himself onto the step, looking into the back of the carriage. His eyes darted across Tommy's face, and the question died in his throat.

"We were at the mine," Frost said, and Frankie looked at him. "Something went off. We got caved in."

"What was he doing there?" Frankie asked, and Jane felt new sobs burning their way up her throat at the sound of Frankie crying. "What was this idiot doing there, huh?"

"What else, Frankie, it was some idiot scheme!" Jane garbled, slamming the side of the carriage. "He didn't think—_he didn't think_, he never thinks!"

"Jane, I think you should stay here," Korsak said, as gently as he could. "We'll tell Angela, all right? We'll clean him up and we'll tell her."

Jane looked torn, not wanting to dodge responsibility but also appearing relieved that someone had offered to do this for her. Frankie solidified it by clapping a strong hand on her shoulder. She bit her lip and threw her arms around him, hugging him as if it would purge her of all her tears if she held him tightly enough.

"You've done your share," he said thickly. "You were there. I've got this."

"I'll be along," she promised. "I—I just can't, Frankie, I can't be there when she..."

"I'll tell her. We'll—Korsak and me and Frost—we'll tell her. You stay."

Jane couldn't look at any of them anymore. She ran towards the house, slamming the door behind her, feeling a gush of air when she realized her home was empty. Angela had taken Collin and Lily, probably the her room above her tavern. Or maybe Collin was with Kay. Magnum appeared to have been shut in the cellar; he was barking loudly, and Jane went to open the door. He shot out, and she went to let him outside in the back, where Jo was probably waiting.

She went to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of ale.

Someone came up behind her, slipping an arm around her waist. The figure was small, slender, soft—Maura. Her hand trailed down Jane's arm, her fingers meeting the ones that Jane had wrapped around the neck of the bottle. "Honey," she whispered.

"What?" Jane growled defensively. "_What_, Maura, you gonna stand there and tell me this is no time to drink?"

Maura paused before answering, praying she could say the right thing. "I'm here, Jane," she said weakly. "Please, darling, just use _me_. You don't need th—"

"God _DAMMIT_, Maura, don't tell me what I need!" Jane shouted. She pushed violently away from Maura, whirling around to face her, suddenly seething. Terror flashed in Maura's eyes, and Jane broke the bottle against the table, shattering the glass instantly and sending the ale splashing to the floor. "My brother is dead! He's _dead_, Maura, and I should've helped him!"

"Jane, you did what you could, and he pushed you away! At the end, you still did your best, and that's—"

"_I should have been there for him!_" she yelled, refusing to hear out anything else. "I should have told him the second I found out he'd gotten a girl pregnant—I should have said I'd help, I should've said he could count on me, and I didn't! And look where it got him! Look what happened! Who the hell am _I _to judge what he's done?! Huh? _Who am I _to have done that? If I'd just tried to help, instead of—instead of—"

Maura had seen Jane angry, she'd seen her drunk, but she'd never seen her hysterical like this. Jane's hands were tangled in her own hair, as if she was trying to pull it out by the scalp; she couldn't stand straight, wracking with sobs.

"Maybe I did, maybe I killed him," she cried. "I wanted Lily so bad, maybe somehow that—"

"Jane, do not say things like that!" Maura reprimanded her. "You know that's crazy!"

"Is it?! You're the one who told me the most powerful force on earth was a thought—not guns, not dynamite, not anything like that! Maybe I thought so hard that I'd be better for Lily than him that it—it killed him before he ever got the chance!"

"Jane, _stop!_" Maura shouted, impulsively reaching out and embracing Jane tightly. Jane fought it at first, but Maura held her close, not ready to cave any time soon. And in fact, Jane caved more quickly than she'd expected, finally hugging Maura back, leaning on her. "You are not responsible for what happened today," she said forcefully into Jane's ear. "You are not. Do you hear me?"

"Keep saying that," Jane whispered weakly. "Keeping telling me it ain't true, Maura, that I didn't do it."

"Have I ever lied to you before?" Maura asked, testing her luck and giving Jane's cheek a long kiss. Jane shuddered in response. "_Can _I lie?"

Jane gasped for breath, and it seemed she had no tears left to shed. "No," she sniffed. "No, you can't."

"And if I could, I wouldn't to you. Not ever to you, Jane."

The ability to speak seemed to have departed Jane as swiftly as her tears. She mouthed "thank you" into Maura's hair, hugging her extra close to make up for the words she could not form.


End file.
